The Drumm Set
by Picklepocket
Summary: Finn is Hollywood, Rachel is Broadway. Twelve years after the events in S3, fate reunites them for "Drumm." Alternating the behind-the-scenes story with a new show for HBO, is there more drama in truth or in fiction?
1. Hooray for Hollywood

**The characters from _Glee_ do not belong to me; I'm just using them because I love them, particularly Rachel and Finn. Please don't sue me. I'm broke anyway so there's really no point. The characters not from _Glee_ are mine, all mine with the invaluable help of my wonderful beta, wood-u-like-2-no, who, contrary to expectations, can spell but more importantly makes what I try to do better. Please drop me a review if you like this story. Unlike _Reunion_, this one could have longevity but it's also different from the norm so it would help to know if the interest is there to keep it up.**

**Conceit: Chapter titles are song titles. This one made its first appearance in the film _Hollywood Hotel_ in 1937, sung by Johnnie Davis and Frances Langford.**

**+...+**

**Chapter One: Hooray for Hollywood **

He was waiting for a call.

He tried to concentrate on the script of _Waiting for the General_ that his agent was pushing as his next movie project. He suspected that Saul's motives were less than pure. It was written by the best-selling writer who was one of the agency's new high profile signings. He had never read any of the guy's books. He'd stopped equating popularity with quality after his first foray into Dan Brown when he was in the army. All he knew was that as a scriptwriter, the guy was crap, at least as much as he'd managed to absorb, which was so far to page eight. Finn Hudson's name on the bill would land it a credence it didn't deserve. Finn would have been surprised that Saul even thought he would be interested in this piece of shit but Saul was trying to make a point. Saul was dead set against Finn doing _Drumm_. Saul was old school. Movies and TV didn't mix in Saul's perfect world. It mattered not how many acclaimed actors and actresses had proved him wrong. Saul was convinced that doing TV would kill Finn's movie career and was showing him the kind of scripts he could expect after he was tainted by TVitus.

Saul was so Old Hollywood that he wanted to relive the 1930s and 1940s, the days of the real stars, when the Hollywood legends were made, like that of Lana Turner being discovered when she was skipping school to take in a Coke at a drug store counter and made a star overnight. He'd admitted that love of nostalgia for a time he was too young to have ever experienced was what drew him to Finn, whose own start was similarly laced with luck and circumstance; that and his talent. The fact that Finn didn't know the legend or worse, that he didn't have a clue who Lana Turner was Saul ignored other than to consider it a condemnation of an American education system that didn't give appropriate priority to film appreciation. It was a topic on which he frequently lectured his young charge. What Saul knew for sure was that Finn was another legend in the making and Saul got on board early.

After two years active service in the army, Finn had decided to pursue acting. He moved to California, took up residence on the floor of an old friend's one room apartment, and signed up for as many acting classes as he could. His leading man looks and screen presence had been spotted by a slightly deranged film-maker who no one took seriously. The man cast him in his low-budget independent that made a ton of money, much as _The Blair Witch Project_ had for its producers. Finn being flavour of the month led him to a superhero movie which, contrary to all expectations, proved to be the summer's blockbuster. That's when he met Saul and that's when Saul proved his worth. _Sultan_ wasn't a tent pole production based on a comic and the costs and effects were kept down to _Monsters_-like levels, but they still wanted him to commit to sequels in case of franchise potential. That was a deal-breaker for Finn, who wanted to do as wide a variety of roles as he could on the advice of his first acting coach and who was fielding a number of attractive offers. The studio really wanted Finn for _Sultan_ and brought Saul in as a fixer to help persuade him to sign. Instead, Saul ended up brokering a script change whereby the character was poised for a _Doctor Who_-like regeneration and everyone walked away relatively happy. Finn also walked away with a new agent. _Sultan_'s success and the freedom to choose new projects led to four more well-received films, including a two-hander with Clooney, and two Oscar nods. The six years he owed in the Army Reserves was paid off when the army decided that securing his agreement to front a long-running recruitment campaign was worth more than having him back as a soldier.

Puck came into the study and threw himself down on the other leather couch.

"Any word?" he asked.

"Nope. Where's Ben?"

"Last I saw him; he was down at the pool, trying to chew his fingers off."

Finn had met Ben Shapiro in the army. They'd been assigned buddies, having to eat, sleep, train, patrol and shit together, and a friendship blossomed. Both had aspirations to go into the arts, Finn as an actor and Ben as a writer. Between long marches and bouts of combat, they'd talk about what they wanted to do when they got out. One night, a little drunk and glad to be alive after a particularly vicious fire fight in Afghanistan where they'd saved each other's lives in turn in the course of one night and agreed to never talk about again, Ben had come up with the outline for _Drumm_ as a vehicle starring his wannabe-actor friend. For the rest of their time in the army, the two of them spent every spare moment thinking and talking about _Drumm_, honing and shaping it into something they liked.

Finn got out after two years. Ben had signed up for four. In the two years without his friend and on his failure to find another with whom he bonded as well, Ben spent his spare time turning _Drumm_ into a novel. He wanted Finn to take co-authorship, but Finn refused. The story was Ben's, the talent was Ben's. All Finn did, as far as he could see, was act as template for the main character and throw in a few ideas. _Drumm_ was published and while it wasn't a best-seller, it did well enough to give Ben the financial cushion once he left the army to write a second book. The new novel proved more popular and shared nothing with _Drumm_ except genre. The second book didn't attract film offers, but it did bring Ben to Hollywood as a writer at the invitation of the show runner of a popular-with-the-critics-if-not-the-audience TV procedural.

It was Finn who put together the team to get _Drumm_ made. He'd sold the idea to a small production company and specifically to Amy Trudeau who'd produced two of his movies. Amy told him point blank that there wasn't a chance in hell of getting it made unless Finn attached his name to it as star. Finn's intention had been to be an executive producer but he knew Amy was right. He decided to go all in and commit to the project sending Saul on a rant of universal proportions. Doubling his sessions with his therapist, Saul swallowed his overt antipathy to his client's insanity, but still tossed in barbs whenever he could about actors who threw their careers away by being stupid.

"Is Saul coming over?"

"Saul is still sulking," Finn said with a heavy sigh. "If he's not actively campaigning to sabotage us, he's hiding in Cabo. I have a really bad feeling that he's not in Cabo."

"That dude needs to get laid."

Finn grinned. That was Puck's belief about anyone at anytime and it was an opinion frequently expressed. Puck had moved to LA after high school with the conviction that so many swimming pools meant his fledging pool-cleaning business would thrive. Puck forgot to factor in that many pools meant many more competing pool-cleaners. Also omitted from his business equation was the ubiquity of unemployed, very good looking actors with spare time who needed to make a living until their breaks came. Puck wasn't the hottest guy in town who could clean a pool any more. He managed to get enough work to make rent but he had to rely on his charms with some of the older, lonelier ladies for extra cash.

When Finn arrived in LA, he turned up at Puck's door, hoping for a bed for the night. He stayed despite the bed being made of floorboard because Puck was happy to see him and because Finn wanted to put as much cash as he could on his lessons, having so much catching up to do. Finn also wanted to pay Puck rent. Puck kept refusing until he got so fed up with the debate that he suggested Finn clean pools for him in lieu of rent. It worked well for Puck. Finn, honed by two years of army training, had the traditional good looks that made him popular with all the ladies, even the hot ones. Puck never felt like a pimp, seeing it merely as effective marketing. The business gained more customers, Puck had a wider and more attractive group of ladies to serve and even after Finn had to quit being his front man and being shown off from time to time when he got his first acting job, Puck was able to keep the majority of his customers satisfied.

With the first pay cheque from the superhero movie, Finn found a decent apartment and invited Puck to join him. They had been living together ever since and as the apartments and subsequently the houses got bigger and more luxurious, so Puck's passion for pools faded in every way except the joy of having a cold beer while lying in one. Puck instead made himself useful, becoming Finn's general factotum. Puck would roar with laughter whenever he or Finn put on old episodes of _Entourage_, Puck's favourite ever show-discovered-long-after-it-aired. He saw himself as Turtle to Finn's Vincent Chase. The analogy wasn't misplaced.

Finn finally dropped the script, abandoning the attempt to give it attention. He threw his head back on the couch and closed his eyes, willing the phone to ring. He could call Amy but she'd just send him to voicemail. She'd call as soon as she knew.

+...+

Puck started to fidget. Waiting was fucking boring. He got up to find the iPad and started perusing the entertainment sites. These were his people now. He liked to keep up with the gossip. He checked the home pages of a few of his favourites until he saw a photo. He zoomed in. It was a group photo of a large cast standing in front of one of New York's theatres. There was something familiar about one of the figures.

"I don't believe it," he said softly.

He glanced over at Finn who looked like he was falling asleep. Puck returned his eyes to the screen and selected the link under the picture. It took him to the site's _Broadway News_ page, a section not on Puck's bookmark list. Theatre people, in his experience, were definitely not his people. Reading the story quickly, he took in a long, slow breath. He considered whether or not to show Finn. Puck knew how soft-hearted the big man was about some things. He didn't consider long.

+...+

"Finn, bro, take a look at this."

Finn jerked his head up to see what Puck wanted. Without warning, Puck threw him the iPad. Finn had to scramble to catch it without damaging it. Years of life with a cash-strapped single mom had given Finn a respect for money and property that Puck had lost somewhere between the Porsche and the Lamborghini, despite growing up in similar straits. Finn glared at Puck and shook his head. Puck widened his eyes to let them say "What?" for him and shrugged, pointing to the iPad.

Finn looked down at the screen and saw the _Broadway News_ banner at the top. It was followed by an article reporting on the end of a long-running musical. Finn didn't have to read the story to know which musical so he scanned it quickly to see if she was mentioned. She was.

_Second lead Rachel Berry spoke for the rest of the cast. The show's ingénue "Betty," despite pushing thirty, said that everyone was emotional about the end of the show's run. "I've-We've loved working here and I love, love, love all my fellow cast mates. I-We will miss each other so much!" When asked what her plans were now, the normally effusive Ms. Berry just smiled and said "No comment." After her critically regarded guest appearance as a remorseful serial killer on _Law & Order: Riot Squad_, this reporter thought that Hollywood might be calling but word on the street is that she's up for a part in the new Sondheim revue. It's no surprise that this little lady loves New York what with her rumoured beau, financier Bradley Jackson, setting Wall Street alight. Watch this space._

"Berry's doing well," Puck said casually, "hooking up with big money. Smart girl."

Finn smiled tightly. Puck had stayed in LA the last time Finn went to New York to do Letterman. Afterwards, Finn had slipped into the theatre to watch Rachel, the first and only time he'd seen her perform since they left high school. Her voice was even better than he remembered and she shone on stage. Watching her caused his heart to do somersaults and he slipped away before the curtain closed. Puck wouldn't have understood. Puck had always been a love-'em-and-leave-'em kind of dude – or more accurately, fuck-'em-and-leave-'em – and Finn didn't think he'd understand ache, particularly as Finn could have any woman he wanted.

"She is," Finn agreed absent-mindedly, wondering who the guy was. Finn tried to keep up with events, but he was clueless on this Bradley Jackson. If nothing else, he hoped the guy made Rachel happy. He thought about googling the name until he reminded himself sharply that it was none of his business. What good would it do him knowing anyway?

Damn, he thought, laying down the iPad. Now I'm not just waiting for a call that's probably bad news, I'm sitting here thinking about Rachel. This day is not going well at all.

The phone rang. Puck leapt off the couch to grab it. Finn saw Ben, pale and visibly shaking, appear at the patio door.

"Yeah?"

Puck was, as ever, efficient.

"Yeah, got it."

Puck put the phone down and turned solemnly to his friends.

"That was Amy."

He stared down at the floor. Finn's heart sank and Ben looked like he was going to puke.

Puck grinned and shouted, "HBO is a go!"

Finn abandoned his scruples and threw the iPad hard at Puck. Puck caught it and danced a jig, waving it around in the air before tossing it on the couch. Finn jumped up with a yell of "Yes!" He raced over to Ben, giving him a bear hug before returning to high-five with Puck. Finn was elated and started banging on invisible drums. Ben was clapping his hands. Puck supplied a song.

"It's a go and you are Drumm! Nineteen-eighties, here we come!"

**Drumm: Chapter One**

_**11am**_

_To the casual observer, Drumm was daydreaming or, maybe, sleeping off a rough night in the driver's seat of his old Ford Galaxie 500. More careful observation may have just glimpsed the blonde head that occasionally bobbed above the window. Yet Drumm's attention was on neither his dreams nor on the blow job –hardly anyway - but on the door of the grossly inappropriately named Grand Hotel on the corner of 15th and Vine. _

_Theo would have yelled at him if he'd known Drumm had engaged in such diversions while on a job. He should have told the groupie to get lost but he wasn't one to turn down sex. He could have told Theo that he had tried to brush her off but that the girl's enthusiasm and insistence threatened to expose his carefully arranged anonymity. There wasn't a hope in hell that his brother would believe it. It would be another example of Drumm screwing up. Drumm had screwed up a lot in his life. _

_Ten years older, Theo has just joined the police force when their parents died in a car crash. Raising the family afterthought, an unruly ten-year old, when Theo was not much more than a kid himself had proved hard. Drumm had been stupid, running wild and getting hooked on drugs. There was a lot about his mid teens to early twenties that Drumm didn't remember. What he'd never forget was the day of Theo's dishonourable discharge from the force for corruption. The corruption was Drumm; Theo had let his brother walk after catching him red-handed breaking into a convenience store to get money to feed his habit. It came out and it was bye-bye Police Detective Theodore Drummond. On the same day, Theo's wife Lisa, never happy to be parent to the overgrown baby that was Drumm, walked away too. Drumm ruined his brother's life. It was the last day Drumm touched any drug that he couldn't buy at Sears. _

_Wasting his youth left Drumm ill-suited to most careers and bereft of any skills except those associated with thievery and guile. There was one exception – the one that made his nickname stick. Thomas Drummond played the drums. A gift from his parents when he was seven had been put to immediate use and even at his heroin-fuelled worst he'd never sold his drum kit. Hanging around the outskirts of the local music industry had given him access to drugs and the opportunity to do some gigs, when he could be bothered with them. It was to that industry he turned when he cleaned up. His epiphany on what he owed his brother, who was now reduced to running a small detective agency, made him immune to the ever-present temptation of the lifestyle he'd turned his back on. He'd joined a couple of people he'd hung with in the past who were putting together a band and Pandemic was born. It did okay. It was popular locally, hence the girl in his lap but although providing regular work, it wasn't really enough to make rent on a decent place, particularly when split five-ways. That's why Drumm was sitting in a car waiting for an adulteress to arrive at the Grand Hotel so Drummond Investigations could invoice her suspicious husband. He was supplementing his income._

_Drumm felt his eyes start to glaze over as the activity in his groin became too intense to ignore and his mouth dropped open. He tried to focus on the street around the hotel, determined not to close his eyes but they started to roll back of their own accord. He blinked hard and in a flash, he spotted Councilwoman Georgina Jensen, wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap pulled low over her platinum blonde bob, heading for the Grand Hotel._

_"Shit!"_

_Drumm couldn't stop himself coming as he tried to push the girl off his cock, resulting in a messy explosion of ejaculate and squealing protests._

_"I've got to go," he shouted, frantically eying the back seat for something to cover up the mess he'd made of his jeans and T-shirt._

_"You son of a bitch," the girl cried, "you son of a whor-"_

_Drumm leaned over her and opened the passenger door, shoving her out of the car._

_"We're playing tonight, come back stage, I'll make it up to you."_

_"Fuck you," the girl snorted, "I want Johnny."_

_Drumm scoffed. "Naturally! Nobody ever wants the drummer." _

_She drew in a deep breath to shout out more invective. He forestalled it._

_"I promise I'll introduce you to Johnny with my highest personal recommendation. Now, go away!"_

_The girl stormed off, slamming shut the door, as Drumm grabbed a sweatshirt from the backseat and threw it over his head, hoping it didn't make him too conspicuous on this hot day. He shot out of the car, running up to the door of the hotel._

_The receptionist sourly gave him the thumbs up. It had taken an extra fifty bucks on top of the room rates to earn his co-operation, although Drumm's 6'3" frame hadn't hurt either. Being that tall made him intimidating without effort. Drumm raced up the stairs and headed for Room 14._

_He was elated. Theo had been sceptical that this would work as there was no guarantee as to who would arrive first, Mrs. Jensen or her as-yet-unidentified lover. Had the lover turned up first, the receptionist wouldn't have known to give him/her the key to the right room, the one next door to Room 14. _

_Drumm and Mitch Ridgeley, one of Theo's two investigators and the one who managed all the specialist equipment, had prepared the rooms earlier in the morning, taking an hour to place and hide the microphone and camera points. The microphones were new or new to the agency at least. Theo was a Luddite who's only concession to advances in technology was to throw Mitch an occasional bone, a bare bone with the budget to match. Mitch had finally talked Theo into giving covert audio recording a try and Mitch was using the Jensen case as an opportunity to test out some of the second-hand equipment. Drumm knew better than to ask where it came from. Mitch had his own well-guarded sources. _

_There were two cameras trained on the room and Mitch rigged up a way for Drumm to be able to see the view from both at the same time. Drumm would still have to choose what stills to snap but at least he didn't have to run from camera to camera. _

_Mitch had intended to stay to monitor the audio but when he called into the office after he and Drumm were done preparing, Theo wanted him back. There was no debate. Theo claimed greater priority and the audio was a dry run on a job that didn't need it. Mitch glanced down forlornly at the audio equipment. He showed Drumm the button to push to start recording, the one to stop it, and the one to mute the live sound if Drumm didn't want to listen as he worked the cameras. _

_Drumm entered Room 14 and turned on the recorder. He checked the cameras. They were capturing the room well and he took a couple of good test shots of the Councilwoman. Drumm sat back to wait for her visitor, listening to her move around the room through the recorder._

_Mrs. Jensen turned on the radio. The announcer's voice came through clearly. Mitch will be happy, Drumm thought with a smile before registering what was being said on the news._

_"More ramifications from President Carter's announcement of America's boycott of the Moscow Olympics in a moment but today's top story: who did shoot JR?"_

_Drumm didn't watch a lot of TV so the nation buzzing about last night's _Dallas _was a mystery to him. He despaired on the state of humanity to think that with the world going to hell, _this_ was what got people worked up. _

_The news over; music started. Drumm cringed. He liked Floyd but he was really sick of "Another Brick." Drumm muted the audio and returned to his place at the cameras just in time to see the woman jerk her head up and stare at the door to her room. He watched her turn off the radio and head for the door. Drumm stiffened in readiness._

_"Here we go." _


	2. Long Cool Woman in a Black Dress

**Take the note at the beginning of Chapter One, rinse, repeat. Add that wood-u-like-2-no came up with the idea for Finn's furtive phone fun. **

**Conceit: Chapter titles are song titles. This one is by the Hollies, released as a single in 1972, long after Graham Nash left them to play footsies with David Crosby, Stephen Stills and Neil Young. **

**+...+**

**Chapter Two: Long Cool Woman in a Black Dress**

Would this be the one where she would finally do it?

Quinn Fabray stared at the spot where the wallpaper was peeling away, high in the corner of the waiting room. It was a room crowded with other women who looked just like her except that most of them were taller. At 5'6", she was on the short side for a role that called for a statuesque and icy blonde.

Icy was in her milieu her agent had said. That was without him knowing of the persona she'd assumed in high school long before the acting classes began. As for the statuesque part, he'd suggested heels. Quinn looked down at her feet. She'd bought them specially. She hoped that the extra five inches that threatened to topple her over and the $200 she could ill afford were worth it. The tight-fitting knee-length black dress she'd borrowed with the modest split at the side and a smooth chignon completed the image.

When Quinn Fabray arrived in Hollywood after five years of theatre in New York, she had beauty, passion and strong principles. So did everybody else who arrived in Hollywood, except for maybe the principles. Quinn still had the beauty in spades, and despite those around her getting younger by the day, she did not doubt it. Years before, she had chosen the face after all and Quinn had taste. Her passion was still there too but it was being pummelled to a pulp by the paucity of her achievements. In three years, she had twelve credits to her name. They were spread across a number of TV shows, a couple of horror remakes, and one very small role in a good movie. It was one of Finn's movies and getting the part marked the beginning of the erosion of her principles.

Quinn had observed Finn's rise to stardom from a distance with disbelief tinged with envy wrapped in fond admiration. Like her, Finn had come to acting late, both manifesting the interest in the closing months of their final year at McKinley. Quinn had followed the sensible path of perceived wisdom. She'd gone to Yale, got her degree, and then, with the financial support of her mom, spent years honing her craft in theatre with supporting parts in plays and in the chorus lines of musicals. She'd done off Broadway, she'd toured, she'd done dinner theatre; she'd done everything right. Finn did none of that. He'd fallen in and out of the army and then fell straight into making it big in Hollywood. If it was an object lesson in anything, it was in the place of sheer dumb luck in the entertainment industry.

When Quinn came to Hollywood, Finn was already a rapidly rising star. Once she was settled, Quinn had called him as an old friend but also in the knowledge that he could be a useful contact for her. Finn was happy to hear from her and to learn that she was in Hollywood. She was astonished to hear that Puck was living with Finn in a luxury apartment complex on Wilshire. She accepted an invitation to join them for dinner there. The evening went well, just the three of them catching up with each other. The wine flowed, particularly for the men, inhibitions diminished, and the reminiscences, seen through more mature eyes, were reflective. With diminished inhibitions came Puck telling Quinn drunkenly that she needn't look too hard for jobs as she could always get parts in Finn's movies. This stung her pride. With reflective reminiscences came Finn speculating on what would have happened if he'd never learned that Quinn's baby wasn't his. This stung her conscience and had a salutary effect on Quinn's desire to use Finn in any way whatsoever. It was on that night that she swore to herself that she would not ask Finn to help her secure roles.

Everybody used everybody, especially in Hollywood, but she kept the oath for a long time. She kept it when the jobs didn't fall at her feet. She kept it when, down to the last two in two different pilots, she was not offered either. She kept it even after her mother remarried. The new husband equated acting with prostitution and persuaded Quinn's mother that Quinn was teetering on the precipice of the burning abyss of Hell. There were times Quinn reckoned that he wasn't far off the mark. Whether he was right or wrong, the financial support stopped. She kept her oath until the day she was offered her first industry job in a month and it was for a Korean commercial for condoms. She said no and called Finn. Finn leapt at the chance to help. The movie he was on was already pretty much cast but he persuaded the producer to try her out for a small part.

Quinn hadn't seen Finn since the movie. He'd been busy being famous and she'd been busy keeping the cockroach population down to under a million in her room at the misnamed Luxury Hills Complex and Motel. Puck had called her a couple of times, trying to arrange for her to come to Finn's place for dinner again and once for a big party. She'd turned him down, not wanting to admit that her evenings were taken up with either waitressing at a downtown diner or performing dinner theatre. The party would have been a great opportunity to get her face in front of people who could help, so it wasn't just her wounded pride. It was necessity. She couldn't afford to lose the jobs that paid. Finn had called a few times too, the last time to ask if she had heard about the auditions for an HBO show he knew about as there was a part that might suit her.

A call to her agent about the HBO show led her here to this room with the crowd of look-alike women and the wallpaper peeling away in the corner near the ceiling. She sighed and really hoped that the shoes didn't send her flying. The next name was called. It wasn't hers. She stared at the door that another icy blonde disappeared behind and idly wondered again whether in the room beyond was the person to whom she'd finally force herself to offer sex in exchange for a part.

+...+

Finn rubbed the back of his neck, trying to massage the tension in his muscles. Maybe Amy was right, he conceded, maybe he was taking his role as exec producer too damn seriously and he should just go home and be one of the actors. He was more here for Ben. Amy had banned Ben from the process on the grounds that writers were pains in the neck in general and in particular when they were too attached to the physical appearances of the characters they'd created. Amy couldn't, or didn't want to suppress Finn's active involvement so he saw it as his job to try and get a balance between what Ben would find acceptable and what Amy demanded. To placate Ben, he was furtively recording some of the more promising candidates on his phone to show him later.

They'd been casting for two weeks. Today, they were looking for Sophie Cantor and the guy they were pretty sure was going to play Theo was sitting at the side, ready to read with any likely candidates. Normally, they would do this at call backs but time was pressing on them and they were starting to take shortcuts.

Finn wasn't impressed with the woman in front of them but he would never show it. He'd done auditions and he had too much sympathy for the actors going through them to evince negative reactions. So he had to hide the relief when Amy didn't ask her to read with John Iverson. Amy thanked the actress who simpered for a moment, throwing Finn a clear invitation to fuck her, and then left.

"Everyone agree she's not right?"

It was Amy's call but she had the grace to get opinions from the others along the table, the assistant producer, the casting director, one of the guys who'd signed up to direct the first three episodes, a man named Wally Worth which amused Finn greatly and who was the liaison with the network, and Finn. Finn nodded along with the rest.

"Okay," Amy said, "next?"

The door opened and Finn's eyes widened in joy. "Quinn!"

Finn leapt up from the table and ran over to her, picking her up with his bear hug. He kept hold of her when he set her down, immediately feeling that she wasn't steady on her feet.

"F-Finn," she stuttered, "I-I had no idea you were actually attached to this."

"Yeah," he said, releasing and running his hand through his hair. "It's starting to get out there but we're not making a big thing of it yet. Anyway," he said quickly, darting a glance back at the table where eyes watched them with a mixture of interest and impatience, "we must have dinner, catch up, okay? Promise me!"

Finn knew she was aware of the audience and that he was forcing her to agree but he wasn't sorry for doing it. Both he and Puck wanted to see her again socially and she kept fending them off. This was the perfect time for cornering her.

Quinn nodded and Finn bent to kiss her cheek. "Great," he said. "For now, good luck!"

He gave her the thumbs up. Quinn nodded, taking deep breaths to get back the focus that Finn's appearance and extraction of her promise had shattered. Finn raced back to the table and retook his place, looking forward to seeing Quinn's work, his finger hovering over his phone.

+...+

"Quinn Fabray," Amy said, scanning her photo and résumé, "don't I remember you?"

"Yes," said Quinn, her breathing steady and her confidence rebuilding, "yes, I hope so, Ms. Trudeau. You hired me for Mimi on _Traders Drift_." She quickly tried to assess the likely identities of the three women and the other two men staring at her.

"Ah, yes, I remember." Amy cast a sidelong glance at Finn. "You did a good job on that. It was a tiny part but I remember you really connected with the screen. And you were…" Amy rustled through the papers on her desk. "That's right. You and Finn went to high school together?"

Quinn nodded. "Yes, in Ohio. We, uh," she paused, glancing at Finn who in turn was staring at Amy. He clearly wasn't anticipating the interest in their mutual past. "We were in glee club together."

"Yes," Amy mused. "I remember now. I seem to recall something about you being sweethearts once or something wasn't it?"

Quinn saw the left eyebrow of one of the unknown men on the panel rise in interest. She hurried to correct the impression of puppies and rainbows that he seemed to be imagining.

"Not for long," she said. "Finn dumped me," she added cheerfully, keeping it light-hearted, "twice."

Quinn thought she could see Finn squirming in the corner of her eye. The man with the eyebrow was moving his head back and forth to stare at each of them appraisingly.

"In my defence," Finn said plaintively, "I was pretty stupid in high school."

Everyone in the room laughed, including the two former Lima students, and the awkward moment was over.

Amy pressed on. "Okay, Quinn. Let's see what you have for us today."

In preparing for the audition, Quinn had thought about what they might be looking for. Everything pointed to them wanting an icy blonde with layers and Quinn reckoned that was either Chandler or Hitchcock, so she'd spliced two scenes from _Marnie_ to show off that character's initial reserve and her later breakdown when revealing her childhood. It was risky. Her agent had suggested going classical, suggesting Ibsen, but she got much more of a film noir than cracked façade vibe and stuck with her instincts.

When she had finished, she stared at the panel, trying to gauge reactions. Finn was grinning, but that might not mean much. He was an old friend.

"Thank you, Quinn," Amy said. "Um, would you take a couple of minutes to look at this scene, please?" Amy held out a piece of paper and then pointed to a man at the side. "This is John Iverson," Amy continued. "He's here to help us by reading Theo for us with prospective Sophies. I'd like to see you two give this a go – not all of it, of course, but enough for us to get the idea. And don't worry about Finn recording it. I'm confiscating his phone before we finish tonight."

Quinn had no idea what the woman was talking about so she simply smiled, taking Finn's deep blush and the phone in his hand in with a sidelong glance. She turned to the actor Amy had introduced and nodded a greeting before looking down at the script. All she could think as she perused it was, "Help me, Jesus!"

**Drumm: Chapter Two**

_**1pm**_

_"What's this?"_

_Theo Drummond was feeling hot, sweaty and bothered, mostly bothered. His temper was never sweet. Today it was astringent. Sid was used to it. He only ducked when it was caustic._

_"What does it look like?"_

_Theo glared at the large brown envelope he was holding up in his hand. "It looks like an envelope."_

_"Well, that's probably what it is."_

_"When you were my sergeant, you could talk to me like that. When I'm your boss, like now, you're supposed to give me respect, old man."_

_"When you deserve it, you'll get it," Sid replied as he made his way to the door._

_"You move awfully fast with that cane when you want to, old-"_

_The door slammed shut. Theo smiled to himself. He and Sid went way back, to Theo's first days on the force. Sid had been invalided out when his arthritis crippled his hands. He'd joined Drummond Investigations as office manager the next day. His greatest worth was in the contacts he maintained in the police and how many he could persuade to pass him useful information. Officers who would shun Theo, loved Sid._

_Theo sat at his desk, staring down at the envelope. He wasn't expecting anything, he didn't want anything – his plate was overfull – and he knew unknown packages often contained nasty surprises. He ripped open the envelope and spilled the contents onto his desk._

_"Go, baby brother," he breathed as he scrutinised the photos before remembering to be mad at Sid who could have just told him that it was the report on Harvey Williams. He read the report and sorted through the pictures that clearly established that Mr. Williams was a dirty boy._

_He punched the intercom._

_"Sid! SID!"_

_"What do you want," Sid barked, followed an appreciable pause, "boss?"_

_"Call Cliff. Tell him we've got the proof he wanted for Mrs. Williams' divorce. And next time my brother hands you a report to give to me, just tell me, will you?"_

_"Sure. Boss. Uh, tell you when Drumm hands in reports. Got it. You want that in person or by mail? Either way, I need the overtime." Sid punched the cut-off button, the location of which was a mystery to Theo. Theo wondered if a phone could be strangled._

_Everybody called his brother "Drumm," everybody except Theo who thought it was a stupid nickname just because Tommy played the drums. Even Theo's ex-wife Lisa called Tommy "Drumm," just one in the long list of reasons why she was his ex-wife. It was bad enough for Theo when people tried to stick "Bulldog" on him, something Sid did sometimes to wind him up. He'd warned Sid that the day the others started calling him "Bulldog," he'd blow Sid's head off as an act of euthanasia. Alyssa and Mitch had a bet on whether Theo would actually do it but the possibility that he _might_ made them both avoid using the name except under their breaths when they thought he couldn't hear. He'd made it very clear that if they insisted on giving him a new appellation, the only one he'd approve was "Sir." Mitch laughed so hard in response that a blood vessel burst in his eye, sending him to County General on Theo's dime._

_Sid was right about one thing though. His brother was going through an active stage, taking every job Theo would give him. That worried Theo. Past experience told Theo that Tommy usually only cared about earning extra money was when he was doing drugs. The work he'd done spread out on Theo's desk didn't look like the efforts of somebody who was high, but Tommy had learned how to hide his addictions early. He needed to talk to his little brother._

_The day Theo had caught Tommy leaving the scene at a drug store burglary, Theo had made a decision about the thing that was most important to him. It surprised to find that when faced with the bald choice, that thing was Tommy, irresponsible, idiotic, infuriating Tommy. Tommy was his mom and dad's afterthought, brought home when Theo was ten. When Tommy was ten, Theo had to bring home the news that Mom and Dad were dead. Tommy was the one who got the real sucker punch. Confronted with the options of locking up his brother, even though it would have done Tommy some good, or letting him go, Theo did what a lot of cops would do and still did. He let him go. Theo took responsibility for his own actions. Never once did he blame his brother for what he'd done willingly and in full knowledge of the possible consequences._

_Theo acknowledged that the consequences were just. He was off the force and he had been corrupt. What galled him was the reason why that penalty was enforced. Theo had done no more than thousands of officers, still serving, had done before him and would do after him. A blind eye was almost always turned unless it involved a really serious crime. It was never-to-be-publicly admitted corruption that was accepted by intentionally blind eyes and only acted upon when it came to light beyond the blue wall. Once it did, it was dealt with harshly. If Theo had just been unlucky, he would have taken his lumps without question. Theo wasn't unlucky. Theo was targeted by a dirty cop who made sure it came to light to protect himself._

_Theo leaned back in his chair. He's spent the year before he was booted out and the years since trying to nail Officer Christopher Thurlow, now Captain Thurlow. It was a job made much harder by Theo's distance from the force and Thurlow's resemblance to Teflon. Nothing stuck. Theo would get him one day. It was a vow he'd made the day he was discharged. It was a vow that led to an investigation, kept from the others, that was finally starting to pay dividends. The anticipation was sweet._

_Theo shook his head. Tommy first, he reminded himself, wondering where the hell he was. Theo stared down at the phone with distaste. He elected to open his door and yell instead._

_"Sid! SID!"_

_Irritated by the lack of response, Theo went into the main and only other office. Sid and Alyssa were in a corner having a heated debate about the woman sitting at Alyssa's desk, hand clutched to that of a small boy. The woman had a black eye, a broken nose and, from the look of her, not two pennies to rub together. Theo ignored her, not wanting to know. He turned a blind eye to Sid and Alyssa running their underground railway for battered women on the run but told them to keep him out of it. He didn't need the headache of rampaging husbands or the shit that would come down on his head and the business if it turned out any of them were kidnapping their own kids._

_Instead, Theo paid attention to the other woman, the one standing by the window, the tall, slim blonde one with the icy gaze and the legs that didn't stop._

_"Sid! Why didn't you tell me that Miss Cantor was here?"_

_Sid held a finger up to Alyssa to hold his place in the debate. Alyssa grabbed it and squeezed. Sid shouted back at Theo, "Boss! Miss Cantor's here," before shaking his finger free and resuming the argument._

_Theo shook his head and noted Sophie Cantor's fleeting smile._

_"I haven't been waiting long, Mr. Drummond."_

_"I'm so sorry you've been kept waiting, Miss Cantor." Theo said, throwing another glare at his employees. "Would you like to come this way, please?"_

_She nodded coolly and preceded him into the hall. She knew the way and paused only to allow Theo to be a gentleman at the door. She entered the office and watched without reaction as he locked the door behind him and walked towards her, stopping only when he was so close, she could smell the toothpaste._

_Theo slid the suit jacket off her shoulders, tossing the garment onto the visitor's chair. He slid his hands to her waist and followed the skirt's waistband to the tight zipper. He pulled the fastening down slowly, enjoying the sound. The skirt dropped. She was wearing stockings and a suspender belt underneath, nothing more. Theo lifted her onto the desk._

_Sophie reached down and released his zipper just as slowly. She stroked the length of him before moving her hips forward to receive him. They never kissed. They never touched beyond where they needed to touch. They just matched thrust for thrust until Theo groaned and Sophie uttered a single sound._

_"Ah."_

_Theo drew back and pulled up his trousers. Sophie reclaimed her skirt and jacket and redressed, quickly and silently. She took the visitor's chair, sitting up very straight. Theo moved to his chair and sat down._

_"So," he finally asked, "you here for an update on the case?"_


	3. What's Happening Brother?

**Take the note at the beginning of Chapter One, rinse, repeat. **

**Conceit: Chapter titles are song titles. This was on the seminal album _What's Going On_ by the late, great Marvin Gaye. I don't care what year you were born. If you don't know this album and you love music, I have to say: "Seriously? Seriously?" **

**+...+**

**Chapter Three: What's Happening Brother?**

Finn felt like an expectant father, pacing the waiting room because he was too unwanted or too chicken to be in the delivery room. Puck was watching him like Finn was a tennis ball at Wimbledon. It was getting on his last nerve.

"Puck!"

"What?" Finn wasn't sure if Puck was indignant or proud of being blamed for Finn's agitation.

"Nothing," Finn said sulkily, recognizing the injustice of attacking his friend for the deep disquiet he felt in the pit of his stomach. He returned to his pacing.

"Finn," Ben said reasonably, "HBO aren't known for their stunts."

Finn pulled up sharply, so sharply that he saw Puck's head still travelling. He wasn't in the mood for being amused at that and directed his ire at his other best friend. It was either that or find some drums to bang on.

"Need I remind you, Ben, that HBO faces severe competition these days as the quality programme network," he lectured self-righteously, "and that, yes, they do stunts, going way back? Let's start with taking an iron throne on a nationwide tour accompanied by a food truck giving out squabs and lemon cakes."

Finn slumped down onto one of the chairs with force, rocking it. If he didn't know better, he'd think Rachel's diva had momentarily possessed him. He hoped that was enough to prove to Ben that he was talking out of his ass. Finn would have been hard pressed to come up with any other specific examples, remembering that one only because at 17 he'd got hooked on _Game of Thrones_, even though he had a nightmare keeping all the characters straight. He'd read everything online he could about it, both to explain what he didn't get – which was most of it – and because he'd turned into a raving fan boy – and God help him if some of those posts ever got out; there were people he knew now that he'd never be able to look in the eye again. Besides, there was no other way he'd know the word "squab" even existed.

Ben opened his mouth but snapped it shut at a glare from Finn. Ben and Puck were familiar with Finn's occasional fits of rage and Finn consoled himself that they weren't frequent affairs. He just had a really bad feeling about this.

It had started in the morning when Puck said, "Uh, oh."

Finn glanced up from his breakfast and saw that Puck was deep into something on the iPad, the new one. The last had not appreciated being thrown in the pool and had gone on permanent strike. "What is it?"

Puck raised his eyes and shook his head but before Finn could question him further, Finn's phone rang. His brow furrowed on seeing it was his publicist. He answered.

"Hey, Kelly! What's up? I didn't think we had anything on until-"

"Finn," said a harassed voice, "you should have told me about this!"

Finn's brow furrowed more deeply. "What are you talking about? Told you want?"

"You haven't seen it, yet. That explains it. Look now. E!" The voice stopped and the sound was muffled as she yelled out something Finn couldn't hear. She was back in an instant. "Look! E!"

Finn looked up and saw Puck with his head still drooped over the iPad. Finn spoke into the phone. "Just a second, Kelly."

Finn stared at Puck. "Something I should know, dude?"

Puck raised his head and considered the question. "Should know? Probably. Want to know? Probably not."

Finn snorted and reached over the table to snag the iPad. His eyes widened in shock as he read. When he reached the end, he gulped. He knew he had gone pale, he'd felt the blood leave his face on its rapid descent to his entrails. He slowly raised the phone to his ear. He had to force his throat to work.

"Stop it."

Kelly, no respecter of panic, laughed. Finn closed his eyes, knowing what she was going to say.

"Can't stop it, sunshine. It's out there, loud and proud. We have to manage it. I suggest a meeting with Saul, Amy, HBO and me, pronto. Agreed?"

Finn nodded his head in defeat. The shout reminded him that he hadn't switched on the screen.

"Finn! Agreed?"

"Agreed."

Finn did at least expect to be in the meeting, not sitting outside watching the four of them in animated debate the other side of a glass wall. All four had said that they thought it best to review all the strategies first, before sitting down with Finn. His eyes narrowed as he watched the body language, trying to get clues as to who was saying what to whom. It was giving him a headache so he quit in disgust and closed his eyes.

"Well, well, why am I not surprised?"

Finn looked up into the mocking face of Santana Lopez.

Santana had been very clear. She wanted to be famous and she wanted to be in show business. She'd managed both but not in a way anyone but Will Schuster predicted. She was an entertainment lawyer, a skilled one who had a reputation as a barracuda. She was fast establishing herself as the one to go to when there was trouble. Saul loved her and talked Finn into paying her a retainer so she could act as Finn's manager when Saul was focused on being his agent and couldn't do both jobs as he usually did. Finn hadn't been reluctant per se. He and Santana had patched up their differences long ago, but he wasn't sure he was ready for someone known for being so mean on his team. It had, however, worked out well, and Finn usually only saw Santana professionally when deals were being negotiated. He did not like what her being called in over this was saying. Then again, she had a stake in it too.

"I guess you're here because you're mentioned. I'm really sorry."

Santana was giving Puck a hug and shaking hands with Ben. "Honey, doesn't mean a thing to me what some rag says about me. I'm not America's hero," Santana said with a dismissive wave. Finn rose to his feet and she lifted an eyebrow.

"So, we going in?" Finn asked.

"No, I'm going in," she replied, rising up on tip-toe to give him a kiss on the cheek. "The children stay out here."

With that, she swivelled on her designer-shod heel and marched into the room.

+...+

Finn heard the laughter ring out through the open doors behind him as he stared over the garden, nursing a cocktail that Puck had just invented. He was glad that he'd finally got Quinn over for dinner and Puck planned it as a celebration for her getting the part of Sophie Cantor. Santana had been invited too, so she could brief Quinn on the article. Quinn, assured that it didn't affect her casting, had been sanguine.

Thereafter, Santana and Quinn had been excited to see each other again, spending most of the evening reliving old memories. Finn felt a little sorry for Ben and made an effort to draw him into conversation but Ben was relaxed, just watching the two beautiful women with a look of wonder. Finn ended up feeling like the fifth wheel on the cart and excused himself to get some air.

Finn felt his phone vibrate and closed his eyes. Enough already, he thought, determined to ignore it. It stopped but only for a moment before beginning its dance again. He reluctantly dragged it out of his pocket and checked the caller I.D. His eyes widened and he hurried to take the call.

"Kurt! Hi!"

"I don't suppose it occurred to you what this little marketing ploy of yours would do to your family," Kurt complained. "Like, you could've given us a head's up."

Finn groaned. His brother was right; he hadn't even thought about his family.

"Oh, God, Kurt! I'm really, really sorry. I really didn't think about you and Mom and Dad," Finn confessed. "It's been such a frantic day, I just…"

Finn stopped. He had no excuse and he knew it. Of course this was going to have wider implications with reporters swarming over his past more deeply than they'd ever done before.

"I'm sorry," he said firmly. "It was really wrong of me and there's no excuse."

"Wow," said Kurt, "you beating up on yourself is taking all the fun out of this call."

"Yeah, well," replied Finn ruefully, "you know. I might as well join the crowd."

"Okay," Kurt replied thoughtfully, "if you are going into self-pity mode, then I can work with that for the purposes of badinage."

Finn's vocabulary had improved significantly since his teens but not to that extent. If it wasn't one of his brother's favourite words because Kurt could show off his French accent, Finn would have been lost.

Finn scoffed. "Mock away, brother. Just wait until your past catches up with you."

"Oh, I shudder to think. There's a blue sweater corset thing I used to wear that still gives me nightmares. If there was a picture of that anywhere on the net, it wouldn't just be mortifying, I would be marched out of here and drowned in the Seine."

"And how is gay Paree these days?" Finn asked, laughing.

"Very gay, thank you very much. Speaking of which, I've sent you some new pictures of Blaine and I playing leap-frog at Versailles. I think they're tacky but he swears they're endearing. You can tell him with the truth. He's been far too cocky since he made that commercial."

Kurt paused before continuing. "Seriously though, Finn? You need to call Mom. She's worried about you. They haven't called you because they think you're too busy dealing with all this but Dad has to put cold compresses on her head every ten minutes." Kurt paused before adding, "I may be exaggerating about that."

Finn squeezed his eyes shut, shamed by his lack of attention to what mattered. "I'll call, bro. I promise. Thank you for telling me."

"That's what I'm here for," he drawled, "obviously, keeping you from making more of a jackass of yourself. So, spill. Are you going to do it?"

"I don't know, Kurt. I honestly don't have the faintest idea. My head hasn't stopped aching yet."

"For what it's worth, Finn," said Kurt, quite gently, "I think you should."

"I knew you'd say that." Finn groaned.

**Drumm: Chapter Three**

_**2pm**_

_"Hey, Cliff."_

_The tall, dark-haired man in the cheap pin-stripe suit sitting on the bench along the wall of the hall looked up with the most casual of interest. He smiled when he saw his hailer._

_"Hi, Drumm." Cliff Norris unfolded in the lazy way that cats end their nap, standing and stretching out his hand to the younger man. There were two words that described the lawyer to a T, laconic and seedy. "Did you bring the crowbar?"_

_Drumm's brow creased in confusion. He glanced at the closed door at the end of the hall. Through the open double doors on his left, he could see Sid and Mitch in the main office, one on the phone arguing about a utility bill and the other putting together something that looked like a transistor radio. Drumm had seen Alyssa depart earlier with one of her strays. Drumm caught Sid's eye and pointed at Cliff with raised eyebrows. Sid shrugged. Cliff gestured at Theo's door._

_"I tried it. It's locked. Sid says he's in there with some broad; must be special to make him go deaf. I'm due in court in," Cliff paused to examine his watch, "twelve minutes, it's an eight minute walk and I could really do with the Rodriguez report."_

_"Um," Drumm said, not sure what he was supposed to do. "I did the Rodriguez report. Would it help if I told you what was in it?"_

_"Oh, please, like the judge is going to accept that as convincing evidence. No, Drumm, I need the pictures although I suppose I should be grateful that when I tell the judge they've only just come into my possession, it'll be the truth."_

_Drumm nodded and said "I'll see what I can do." _

_Drumm threw the sandwiches he'd been sent out get onto Sid's desk and started towards the closed door. He was saved having to bust his shoulder on it by the sound of the lock being turned. The door opened and Drumm found himself staring at the top of a blonde head. Over it, his brother looked flushed and glared at him. With a jerk of his head, Theo silently ordered Drumm to get out of the lady's way. Drumm pressed himself against the wall and the woman brushed past him, leaving a lingering odour of lily-of-the-valley. He watched as Theo walked her up the hall._

_"I'll call you as soon as I have anything more, Miss Cantor," Theo said. _

_Miss Cantor paused and without turning, said coldly, "Please see that you do, Mr. Drummond" before walking out the door and into the street. _

_"Well, nice to see one of your clients is getting their money's worth," said Cliff, without rancour and staring after the woman appreciatively._

_"What can I do for you, Cliff?" Theo barked._

_"Maybe remember that I'm your best client," retorted Cliff, glancing again at door. "Well, I'm the one who gives you steady work, anyway." He checked his watch. "Damn, now I'm actually going to have to jog. That's if I get the Rodriguez report in the next thirty seconds."_

_"It's not my fault you didn't get your ass down here until the last minute," Theo responded. "I seem to remember calling you yesterday."_

_Drumm smiled at the pair, knowing the strength of their friendship and mutual respect. Deciding to make himself useful, he slipped into Theo's office and quickly recovered the disputed report from Theo's filing cabinet. He emerged from the office to find that they were still at it. He handed the file to Cliff after holding it up and getting the nod from his brother._

_"I think I want Drumm to do all my cases in future," Cliff mused as he perused the photos. "He gets the money shots and he doesn't hide in his office."_

_"Since Tommy doesn't have an office, that's not much of a recommendation," Theo replied dryly. "And, why are you still here? I thought you were in a hurry." _

_"Yes," said Cliff, slapping shut the report and sliding it into his open-topped briefcase. "And the dry cleaning bills for the sweat stains in this suit are coming out of your fee."_

_Cliff raised an arm in farewell and left the building._

_"He's not rushing," said Drumm. _

_"That's because he lied. All lawyers lie. It's their nature." Theo turned his attention to his little brother, who was actually two inches taller. "I need to talk to you."_

_"Sure," Drumm said. "What do you need?"_

_"This way," Theo said, tilting his head to his office. As they walked down, Drumm glanced at his brother. Something was bothering him, he could tell. _

_There were things that Drumm didn't understand about his brother. For one thing, he didn't get why his brother didn't hate him, the stupid kid who ruined his life. Whenever he probed, Theo said that his baby brother hated himself enough for the both of them. _

_They reached the office and Theo closed the door behind them. Uh-oh, Drumm thought._

_"Are you going to lock me in too," Drumm enquired lightly, "because I'm all for brotherly love and stuff but…"_

_"What?" Theo said, "What are you talking about?"_

_"I think locking yourself in your office with a beautiful blonde means only one thing, Theo."_

_"Yeah," Theo said without blinking. "You're right. It means highly confidential."_

_Drumm raised his eyebrows. He didn't understand his brother in many ways but he knew when he was hiding things and he knew when he was worried. He'd had plenty of opportunities to learn growing up. It took Theo a week to tell him their parents were actually dead and it was Lisa who told him why he'd been kicked off the force. As for worry, well that was Theo's permanent state in Drumm's bad years. Drumm didn't like seeing it again._

_"What's going on, Theo?"_

_Theo sank into his chair, pointing to the visitor's chair. Drumm braced himself to be bawled out for something._

_"This case of Jack's sister; it's getting murky."_

_Sally Strong had run away from home when she was fourteen. Pandemic was her older brother Jack's band and he'd accepted long ago that she was lost to him and the rest of his family. So when he thought he saw her at the Pink Leopard one night, saw her but failed to get close or talk to her, he'd asked Theo via Drumm to check it out._

_"What do you mean, murky?"_

_"I mean," Theo said, "it's leading to nasty places. The Pink Leopard is run by a shit called Wilson Sallis who's trying to corner the market on analogue drugs. Guys like him buy in legal stuff and then get lab kids to change the chemical structure to create new addictive drugs which aren't unlawful controlled substances until the DEA can get them into the schedule. By that time, the lab guys have created something new. Sallis runs girls out of the clubs, using them both to bring in the doctors and chemists who supply the main business and to distribute the end product. The cops know but haven't been able to pin anything on him yet. He's careful and he's mean. Witnesses don't live. If Jack's sister is involved with Sallis, it's going to be hard to get her out." _

_Drumm let out his breath in a long, slow whistle. This was not good news. "What do you want me to tell Jack?" he asked._

_Theo sighed. "Nothing, yet. I've set up an op tonight; I'm going in with a medical guy I know for cover. I'll try and make some contacts and see if I can at least confirm that Sally is one of the Pink Leopard girls."_

_"I'm playing tonight. Can't you move it to tomorrow so at least I can back you up?"_

_"Nope," Theo said shortly. "Alyssa's backing me up. Doctor's only available tonight."_

_"She's good, Theo, but you'd be better with somebody more… brutish."_

_"If you want to go out there and tell her she can't do her job because she's doesn't have a dick, be my guest. I guarantee you she will not only demonstrate the error of your thinking, she will detach yours and use it as a doorstopper."_

_"Alright, alright," Drumm said, laughing and holding up his hands in surrender._

_"Anyway," Theo said, not adopting Drumm's lighter mood, "there's something else." He paused and stared hard at Drumm. "What are you up to?"_

_Drumm looked at him, puzzled. "I've just brought in gold on Georgina Jensen. And I mean gold as in not just one guy. I've left the recorder and film with Sid so you should have pictures in an hour, if Mitch gets his nose out of whatever it is he's doing out there."_

_"You're working hard, Tommy. You've done Cliff's last six cases; you've done this Jensen thing. I ask again. What's going on?"_

_Theo was continuing with the hard stare and Drumm felt himself squirming for no good reason. He had nothing to hide. "I'm trying to earn money, that's all."_

_"The only reason you've ever needed money-"_

_"No. Theo, no. I swear to you. I am not using. That's over."_

_Theo said nothing, waiting to be convinced. Drumm sighed because he knew Theo had every reason to be sceptical. Theo had earned the right to never trust Drumm again._

_"Theo, I just, I don't know, I'm just tired of living in a squat. I'm tired of washing in water that looks like piss and sharing a floor with rats. I'm mostly tired of living with a group of thirty-year-old juveniles who argue about everything. I love the band, but I don't want to have to be with them all the time. I want to get enough together to find a decent place. I know you said I can live with you but I think I need a place of my own, you know, put down some roots?"_

_Theo's eyes widened._

_"Yeah, yeah," said Drumm. "I know it's not like me. Well, I think maybe, finally, I'm growing up." _

_Theo stood up and walked purposefully towards his brother. Drumm stood, not sure whether to prepare for a punch or a slap. He got a hug instead._

_"Good for you, kid." _


	4. Bang and Blame

**Take the note at the beginning of Chapter One, rinse, repeat. **

**Conceit: Chapter titles are song titles. Like many in 1994, I was excitedly anticipating REM's follow-up to _Out of Time_ and _Automatic for the People_. The album _Monsters_ may have been a little disappointing as a whole, but this is a good song off it.**

**+...+**

**Chapter Four: Bang and Blame**

"Pushing thirty!" This was screamed. "Pushing thirty!" This was not as loud but the anger was more potent. "Pushing thirty…" And this is when the despair crept in. This one was followed by tears.

Rachel Berry crawled into the long arms held outstretched for her. They wrapped around her and held her close as she sobbed. When she relaxed, he kissed the top of her head and spoke softly.

"Honey, you are-"

Rachel shot up and wagged a finger in front of his face. "Don't you dare say it! Don't you dare! I'm going to sue them."

His eyes rolled helplessly and gathered her back up in her arms, rocking her, this time to ease out the seething that was roiling within her. He was used to her drama queen bouts but this was silly and childish. Once he felt her still, he pushed her back a little and stared into her eyes.

"They didn't lie. You can't sue. You are pushing thirty, honey. I know. I was there the day you were born."

Rachel glared at her father. Hiram sighed. He twisted his head around, willing that LeRoy would emerge from the kitchen. Even though the apartment was compact, the kitchen was separate from the small living room and so LeRoy was able to escape the full force of the storm, even though he must have heard all of it.

LeRoy and Hiram Berry had travelled to New York to catch the final performance of _Earthworks_. The curtain was brought down to rousing cheers and applause, none more so than from the Berrys despite having seen the musical sixteen times before. Thirteen of those times had been in the last four years, since Rachel was pulled from the chorus line to perform the role of Betty, the second female lead. Every time they spoke on the phone since, Hiram had signed off with "I love you, Betty Berry," for their mutual amusement. He was a little sad that he'd have to stop now.

The apartment was the first fruit of Rachel's promotion. It was small but it was central and it was hers – the first time she hadn't had to share since moving to New York. She loved the apartment. She made it her home, her sanctuary and her temple; she made it predominantly pink. Since then she'd eschewed moving to something bigger, even though she finally had the means.

Hiram and LeRoy hadn't pushed her to move, even if it would have saved them a fortune in hotel bills. They knew Rachel hung onto to things and that she was content hanging onto the apartment even though she could afford bigger and better. Now the musical had ended, Hiram noted that the greater benefit of Rachel's parsimony was that she had saved her money, no bad thing for someone in the topsy-turvy business that is show.

They were in New York for a week, intending to spend some quality time with their newly unemployed daughter. Rachel had made a splash now, but parts were few and there were a lot of people with the talent and drive to match hers. Her next career move wasn't obvious, but it was certainly going to be critical. For the umpteenth time, Hiram prayed her agent was good.

Hiram stroked her hair. He knew this wasn't about Rachel's age, even if it was bitchy for the journalist to couple it with her role as an ingénue. She'd been lucky to still look young enough four years before to get Betty. It was reality that Rachel would be unlikely to be getting those roles any more and the article was just confirming what everyone knew; she wouldn't be the next Wendla Bergmann. The tantrum, probably for the benefit of her dads when she could indulge in childishness, was about her uncertain future.

Rachel was still glaring at him and his husband was still making himself scarce, having proclaimed Hiram the better consoling parent. Hiram tried to think of something consoling. "You don't look thirty."

"Arrrrgggghhhhh," Rachel screamed before bouncing out of his lap, racing to her bedroom and slamming shut the door.

LeRoy finally emerged from the kitchen.

"Well, you timed that to perfection," Hiram said sourly.

LeRoy bent down and kissed the man he'd loved for nearly forty years. He spoke softly in Hiram's ear. "You're so much better at this stuff than I am." LeRoy walked around the small couch and settled next to Hiram. They gazed at each and sighed in their mutual concern for their darling girl.

"When's Bradley back?" Hiram asked.

"She told me she didn't know," LeRoy said, shrugging. "He's helping to save the Malaysian economy apparently. Do you find it strange that those two seem to spend hardly any time together?"

Hiram shook his head. "I find it strange that she's with him at all. He's so… rigid. He's nothing like-"

Hiram stopped as LeRoy threw him a sharp glance. On the strict instructions of their daughter, they weren't supposed to bring up the F-word. Ever. Doing it in the confines of a small apartment with her in the next room was asking for trouble. Hiram continued. "I know he's looked after her money but I just wish I could believe he's looked after her half as well."

"My love," LeRoy said softly, "you know our track record on trying to interfere with Rachel's love life." It was Hiram's turn to throw the sharp look at his partner's use of the word "our." "I know, I know," admitted LeRoy, "it was mainly me-

Hiram snorted in derision at LeRoy's attempt to make him share the responsibility. LeRoy ignored the rebuke and didn't pause. "But we learned our lesson. We have to let her go her own way and be here when she hits a wall. It's what dads do." He leaned his head on Hiram's shoulder. "We have no reason to complain. We chose to become parents."

+...+

Rachel threw herself on her bed. She knew her dad was right but she'd needed to rage. She embarked on controlled breathing, closed her eyes and silently repeated the one-word-of-no-meaning mantra that she'd been assigned by some guru in Greenwich Village. Once calmed, she thought about texting Bradley. They exchanged texts because the twelve-hour time difference and their schedules until now played havoc with their ability to talk. Rachel knew with certainty that Bradley preferred it that way too. She checked her phone and was surprised to see he hadn't acknowledged her last three messages. He usually responded at least, even if it was often with a single word.

She sighed. It was probably time to end the charade. They'd never been lovers. Rachel had sworn off relationships other than the most casual kind not long after she arrived in New York and Bradley was not interested in women sexually. Rachel wasn't at all certain that he was interested in men either. They derived different benefits from their relationship. She got a financial advisor and someone she could talk to outside the business. He got to be pictured with a glamorous Broadway starlet which did him no harm with the Wall Street crowd. It was an arrangement which had suited them both but Rachel was starting to feel restless. It was time to move on. Coincidentally, that was the same advice she was getting from her agent about her career.

Rachel thought back to the long meeting with Bo Siddons, two months before, when the producers announced _Earthworks_ was ending. Bo had wanted her to leave the show and try Hollywood two years before, saying that Rachel was at the point where she needed to raise her profile. Bo agreed that it seemed counter-intuitive but insisted that Rachel would be more attractive as a lead on Broadway if she was better known outside Broadway. Rachel wasn't prepared to quit _Earthworks_ but she did agree to put her toe in the water with a role in one of Dick Wolf's New York-based TV shows. She'd had to work very hard to film and still appear in every performance of _Earthworks_. The time left for sleeping and eating was pitifully small in those two weeks. It was worth it. She'd enjoyed being a killer for two episodes and her performance was publicly lauded, even though Rachel still hadn't seen it. There wasn't much point having a television when performing every night.

Two years on, Bo was advocating with even more passion for a film or TV role and against her holding out for a starring role in New York. They were just too rare and there was too much competition, particularly from those who'd become household names. Rachel had agreed so far as to let Bo scout out opportunities for film and TV but asked that he also work towards Broadway. It was her home and she really was reluctant to leave it, particularly for a place where the competition was even fiercer and where her voice, her indisputably best talent, could count for so much less. _He_ hadn't sung in a movie anyway.

Disliking where her thoughts were leading her, Rachel jumped off the bed and left her bedroom to end her dads' misery and reassure them that she was over her tantrum.

+...+

Two months after _Earthworks_ closed, Rachel's world fell apart.

The first sign of disaster was innocuous. It was an article in _The Wall Street Journal_ by a coy journalist. She had something she couldn't publish at that point but she wanted to lay some groundwork. She published a historical review of Ponzi schemes and the way they'd developed and been adapted over time. There hadn't been a Ponzi scheme scandal in years so the article had people buzzing. A week later, the journalist published the real story and sat back to bask in Woodward/Bernstein-like post-Watergate glory.

Like many others, Rachel didn't read the article. She was too busy pursuing the Sondheim review, despite Bo's lack of enthusiasm for her to commit to being just one among eight other very good singers. She was also trying to meet with Bradley, to end their sham of a relationship, but he hadn't responded to her texts since he returned from overseas. The first Rachel knew that all was not well for her was when, close to signing on the dotted line for the revue, the offer was withdrawn. Rachel might not have been following the financial gossip, which in the course of the week between the two articles had centred on Bradley, but the tsars who bankrolled the show certainly did and remembered the pictures of Rachel and her Broadway-friendly Wall Street man.

Perplexed and nursing her rejection at home in the apartment, Rachel was visited by two men and a woman, all in dark suits and darker humour. They spoke of fraud and embezzlement, of jail and arrests. They questioned her closely on her relationship and the extent to which she'd opened doors for a criminal to attract more investor victims. She was left shaking and in fear of prosecution for doing nothing more than introducing Bradley to her acquaintances in the theatre. It was as a postscript that she learned that her money was gone – all the money she'd given Bradley to invest on her behalf which was the bulk of what she'd earned the last four years. Her chances of replenishing her wealth were hampered by the fact that Broadway was shutting its doors on Rachel because of her association with Bradley and the scandal.

Rachel finally accepted that she didn't just have to go to Hollywood, she desperately needed to go. She called Bo, cried on his shoulder for a while, and then discussed her options with him seriously.

"Okay," he said. "There is this one thing that came in today. It's a great part – a new HBO show, noir, interesting. There are strings though…"

"It doesn't matter," Rachel said firmly. "I will do naked."

"Uh, that's not it, although actually," he said, checking the papers in front of him, "the role does call for nudity."

Rachel paled at the thought of showing herself in that way but furiously beat down her fears. She searched her mind for what else it could be. "I know I'll have to audition and I can't expect to just walk into it."

"Well, here's the thing," said Bo. "You can pretty much just walk into it, but it involves something that you might find underhand."

"Is it illegal?" Rachel asked quickly. She shivered at the memory of the dark suits.

"No," Bo said, "nothing illegal. It very much involves the truth."

Rachel agreed without asking too many questions. Rachel was focused on her career and obstacles were for trampling, whatever they were. Rachel's determination wavered when she learned exactly what and who she might be trampling on but it held sway on the conviction that they were all professionals now. This was business and advantages were to be exploited. Nothing was going to stop her. Nothing. She had to focus. She had to form a new mantra that would drown out doubts or guilt or fears about her potential fellow cast mates. She had to keep repeating the new mantra when her compassion persisted in beating at the doors of her resolve.

"I was born to be Elsa. I was born to be Elsa. I was born to be-"

**Drumm: Chapter Four**

_**10pm**_

_Theo wasn't one for evening wear and he wasn't one to be sitting around doing nothing more active than nurse a Whiskey and Sour. He wanted to untie the bow tie. The gadget Mitch had put together was digging into his abdomen. His doctor friend, George Armstrong, was being so jittery that Theo had decided to hold off doing anything until George's nerves were numbed by enough alcohol to calm him but not enough to make him stupid. Events earlier in the evening had put Theo on edge. He was not happy just sitting in the booth and doing nothing so he concentrated on the activity around him._

_The Pink Leopard was swanky. The men were in tuxes or dark suits; the women were in slinky dresses. Everybody was in heat. A woman had approached them when they arrived but Theo had sent her off with "Later, baby," in her ear. He'd found him and George a quiet booth and set about creating the image of two doctors relaxing and talking business before tasting what the club had to offer._

_Theo checked for Alyssa. He noted the black woman serving drinks four booths over with a satisfied nod. She scrubbed up really well. Theo almost laughed out loud trying to imagine his brother in those heels. Alyssa glanced over at him and shook her head once. Anyone watching would have made nothing of it but she was telling him that she'd seen no sign of Sally Strong. Theo sighed. He hadn't either and wondered if this whole charade was going to be a bust and a waste of the two hundred bucks to get Alyssa's "cousin" to call in sick. He was starting to think Jack Strong had hallucinated. That would serve Theo right for getting involved with one of his brother's musician friends. _

_Casually, Theo checked over his shoulder, scanning the large booth near the back of the club. Wilson Sallis was holding court. He'd come out from time to time on a walkabout, shaking hands with some, bringing women to others, but for now he was settled in the centre of the seat in the booth, arms around a woman at each side, flirting with both._

_An exaggerated drum roll interrupted Theo's thoughts, startling him into wondering if Tommy had found a way to back him up regardless. There was no sign of his brother, but there was a small jazz trio on the stage at the front. Over some intercom, came an announcement._

_"Ladies and gentleman, for your listening pleasure, the Pink Leopard is proud to present the beautiful, the talented, the not-to-be-touched…"_

_There were titters around the room. Nervous ones, Theo thought. The announcer continued._

_"The incomparable Miss Elsa Cannotti."_

_There was a round of enthusiastic applause as Theo realised that she must be a regular feature. That might be useful to know. Glancing back at Sallis, Theo could see that he'd thrown off the women and was leaning forward on the edge of his seat. Returning his eyes to the stage, Theo could appreciate why. _

_The woman who stepped out had luxurious chestnut hair that spilled down her back. She was perfectly formed with a body to kill for. It was sheathed with something sparkling and glossy and sheer enough in all but the right places to leave the audience panting. She stared out at the audience, ignoring the applause and waited for it to stop. When it did, she nodded at the pianist._

_Theo had heard a lot of versions of "The Man That Got Away" in his time but few matched this. Singers, even famous ones, so often overplayed the emotion with exaggerated pouts or streaming tears. Elsa Cannotti avoided that, going for, as Garland had in the original performance, the wistfulness underlain with sorrow rather than the full-blown regret that others did, including Garland herself in later years._

_Theo leaned back and, unusually for him, let himself get lost in the music. He applauded with the rest when it was over, watching Sallis join her on stage and kiss her cheek. He noted her withdrawal although it wasn't overt. _

_"Yes," Theo thought to himself, "she could be very useful indeed."_

+...+

_Across town, Drumm kept time with competence rather than passion as he had done for most of the night. Lise-Marie had been eyeing him since they started. He'd shrugged at her and looked away. His talk with Theo about Jack's sister had made him gloomy and he only perked up when they played one of his own songs and a couple of covers that he really liked. The set was about half-and-half band originals and covers which was the norm for Pandemic. The covers were drawn from everywhere but Johnny and Mags tended to supply most of the ideas, using music from their home country that was less familiar in America. Of course, some of them had become hits in the US, Drumm thought idly as he beat his way through "Cruel to Be Kind."_

_His hands and arms on automatic, Drumm looked out over the crowd. It wasn't bad but for a Friday night, it was disappointing. Jack would be bitching later. Pandemic might be his band but with four other members with ideas of their own, he ended up spending more time arguing than thinking about what they needed to be doing to be more successful that didn't include singing the Carpenters. Drumm did not want to sit though hours of fighting about committing to punk or rock again. After their little heart-to-heart in the afternoon, Drumm thought that maybe he would crash at Theo's for once. He'd had a key since the day Theo moved in, after his divorce. _

_Drumm spotted the groupie from the morning and remembered his promise. Johnny was prancing in front of the stage, doing his best Cockney for "Oliver's Army." He and Mags were apparently "on the outs" again so Drumm didn't see a problem in sending the groupie Johnny's way for the night. He looked over at the band's rhythm guitarist and saw her making eyes at the bartender as she sang backup with Lise-Marie to her ex-boyfriend's lead. _

_The Costello song finished and Johnny told the audience that the band was taking a ten-minute break. Johnny jumped off the stage, landing in the middle of a squealing bunch of girls – and one guy Drumm noted with amusement. Mags went to the bar and started flirting. Jack and Lise-Marie headed his way. Neither was smiling._

_"What's up with you tonight?" Jack asked, pissed. "You're playing like you have your arms up a buffalo's ass."_

_"I'm sorry, man," Drumm said, running one hand through his damp hair. "I'm just tired, you know? It's been a long day. I'll do better in the next set."_

_Jack stared at him a moment. Drumm saw, and dreaded, the look of hope that suddenly appeared._

_"You have news about Sally?"_

_"No, man," Drumm lied. "Theo's working on it though, trust me."_

_Jack closed his eyes in disappointment and shook his head. Drumm stood and put a hand on his friend's shoulder._

_"If she's there to be found, Theo will find her," Drumm said firmly. "You just have to give him some time."_

_"Yeah, I know, man."_

_Jack walked back to his bass guitar and picked it up, retuning the strings. Lise-Marie put her hand on Drumm's arm._

_"Are you okay, Drumm?"_

_Lise-Marie hailed from Quebec and had a soft French accent that in the past had made his heart flip. They hadn't been an item for years but every so often, they turned to each other for comfort, sexual and otherwise._

_"I'm fine, cherie," Drumm said. "I've just got a lot on my mind…" He hesitated, unsure of whether he should say anything about wanting out of the squat. Her concerned face decided it for him. "I'm working overtime for Theo, Lise. I want to get out of the squat. The fighting, the rats, it's all starting to wear me out."_

_Lise-Marie examined his face and nodded. She walked away, heading for the bar but paused to throw back the last word._

_"Maybe you could take me too." _

+...+

_Theo had left George in the booth with strict instructions to order no more drinks. He didn't think he was going to be able to use him. The man was a wreck and he didn't even know Sallis' reputation. Theo, however, was adaptable, and he was adapting now as he approached Elsa Cannotti at the bar._

_"That was pretty good," he said, trusting that she'd be either offended and talk to him to give him a piece of her mind or that she'd find the lack of effusiveness refreshing and talk to him because he wasn't a bore. He reminded himself, seeing how pretty she was up close, that all he wanted to do was talk to her._

_"Thank you," she said quietly. "I'm glad you liked it."_

_Theo watched her grab the drink and turn to walk away. Theo called after her. "Miss Cannotti!"_

_She turned back to face him, her eyes clear but weary and wary. "I'm sorry, I don't date the customers." She turned again. _

_Theo thought furiously how to engage her. "Do you help them?"_

_She paused, her back still to him. Turning slowly, she examined him more critically before saying, "Depends what help they're looking for."_

_Having secured her attention, Theo judged that she was averse to being played and decided to go in with sincerity. "I'm looking for a girl." He saw Elsa raise an eyebrow and start to turn away. He raced on urgently._

_"She'd be twenty-four and her name is Sally Strong. She ran away from home when she was fourteen and her brother thought he saw her in here. The family had given her up for dead. I'd like to give them peace, one way or the other."_

_Elsa appeared to be thinking about it which Theo supposed was a good sign. He saw her glance towards Sallis and the look of concern that descended on her face. Theo recognised fear. He dropped his voice to nearly a whisper._

_"Miss Cannotti, don't worry about it now. Everyone's waiting for your next song, but maybe you could think about it? This is my card." Theo took her free hand and kissed it, slipping the card surreptitiously into her hand. Her eyes widened at the action but she made a fist to keep it hidden from prying eyes. _

_"If you think of anything that might help me," Theo continued, "call me. Now slap me."_

_Elsa was quick on the uptake and slapped his face, hard. Theo worked his jaw a little before assuming the gait of a chastised Lothario to return to the table. "Wow," he thought as he sat down, "she packs a punch." He settled back to enjoy his compensation. She was walking to the stage to sing again. _

+...+

_It was some hours after the gig that Drumm let himself into Theo's apartment, trusting his brother wouldn't object to his intrusion. Drumm had felt honour-bound to stick around for at least some of the fight about the band's direction and he'd wanted to pick up some clean-ish clothes. He checked Theo's room and was surprised to see his brother wasn't home yet. Drumm would end up on the couch but for now, he threw himself down on the bed to wait for Theo, staring at the ceiling._

+...+

_Theo Drummond was lying down too. He was in the street staring at the stars. The bullet hole in his head was proof that the eyes saw nothing._


	5. Ain't That a Kick in the Head

**Take the note at the beginning of Chapter One, rinse, repeat. **

**Conceit: Chapter titles are song titles. Dean Martin was the first to record this Sammy Cahn lyric set to the music of Jimmy Van Heusen, in 1960.**

**+...+**

**Chapter Five: Ain't That a Kick in the Head**

Finn was fine with his high school history being detailed and held up to ridicule. It came with the territory. He was perplexed by the long list of ways in which he'd apparently been a douche bag – breaking Rachel's nose was an accident and while he'd accept that he was clumsy, he still didn't understand why that made him a dickhead – but that too was the job. Every actor had haters. The bigger you were, the more of them you had and the louder they whined. There wasn't anything that was an outright lie in that part of the article but everything was taken out of context and spun as negatively as possible. It saddened him that the stuff they had must have come from people he thought were his friends. Yet all that, he could live with.

What had floored Finn was the final paragraph.

_Sources on the production have confirmed that Hudson has used his muscle on the production and blocked all attempts to cast Rachel Berry, recently freed from a long commitment on Broadway, for a major role, one which was made for her. One source reported that he told the producers the only role he'd consider her for was the role of a groupie without a gag reflex. There might be reasons not to hire Ms. Berry – she's no stranger herself to scandal, currently in the papers every day as investigations into her possible involvement in her boyfriend's financial mismanagement are ongoing – but none of that matters to Hudson. He's sticking it to the ex. Is the star everybody liked for his affability and professionalism finally showing his true colours, those he displayed in high school? Come on, Finn! You hired one high school sweetheart you dumped. Why not the other? We want Rachel Berry! What do you think? Do you think Finn Hudson needs taking down a peg or two? Do you want to see the screen sizzle when behind the scenes drama makes even more exciting what's on-screen? Vote in our poll. _

The poll result was, unsurprisingly, overwhelmingly in favour of Rachel being cast.

"People love a train wreck," Finn had thought angrily.

There were two things that hurt him. The first was that it didn't take much in Hollywood to go from someone people wanted to work with to someone that people wanted to avoid. Suggesting that Finn would make demands on the production of this nature was akin to telling the industry he was difficult to work with, a judgement that had killed many careers over the years.

The second was personal. He always tried to be professional but he wasn't sure he could be when it came to Rachel. He hadn't tried to prevent her joining _Drumm_. He had no idea she was in consideration. As far as he knew, she was staying in New York and that was okay with him. Opposite coastlines was far enough apart for him to persuade himself he'd moved past her. Now, the article, the buzz that it had already attracted in a slow gossip month and the collective wisdom of his management and production teams were pushing that Rachel should be cast.

"I told you television was evil," Saul said, once Finn had finally been invited into the meeting. "But I can't dispute that this has significantly raised the show's profile. Riding with it gives the show an added dimension and everybody else is going to be kicking themselves for not coming up with it first."

Amy tried to be reassuring. "She's a great actress, Finn. I saw her in _Earthworks_ and she's perfect for Elsa. Her voice is amazing, but you know that."

Kelly was pragmatic. "One. You need to stomp out any suggestion that fame's gone to your head to the extent that you fuck with productions. That's a big no-no."

Finn interrupted. "I never did any of the things they say in that paragraph," he protested. "I didn't even know she was in the running! Amy, tell her!"

"Doesn't matter," Kelly bulldozed on. "The accusation is enough and if Rachel isn't hired, that's confirmation. Secondly, and Finn, I know you're not going to like this, but your personal profile has jumped through the roof with people interested in you now more than ever. That's a good thing for you and for _Drumm_."

Finn groaned. Even Santana offered no comfort. "Hey, that dwarf was never my favourite person, but you and she are trending everywhere. She's always been able to make everything about her. It's time to put it to some useful effect."

Wally didn't sugar-coat it. "What's important? Getting an audience, or hurting your itty-bitty-witsy feelings?"

Finn glared at him suspiciously. This was just the sort of stunt a network's marketing department might pull to bring in ratings. He wondered why this? Couldn't it have been something more like lemon cakes? They at least would leave a pleasant taste in the mouth. Finn guessed that Wally may have had a hand in the whole mess but throwing accusations without proof at the network liaison could pull the plug on the entire project. If he quit, a tempting prospect Finn thought, that would also sink the deal plus confirm everything that was being said about him in the article's conclusion. Either way, Ben would be crushed.

Finn tried to make them understand. "You're all trying to railroad me into something that could all blow up in our faces, you know? This is crazy!"

Kelly leaned forward and said firmly, "Hollywood is crazy, dear boy. You know that. You're being interviewed tomorrow on E! You need to tell them that their source was wrong and you're delighted that Rachel's coming on board."

As Finn looked helplessly round the table, the others nodding sagely, he knew he was trapped. His small act of rebellion was not to concede there and then but to say he'd think about it. It was midnight when he called Kelly to confirm that the performing seal he'd become would turn up for the interview.

+...+

Rachel had been in LA for a week, using a small beach house that was loaned to her by one of Bo's clients. On the third day, while being fitted for costumes, Rachel met Amy Trudeau, the producer and some of her team. She sensed that there was some scepticism and hostility amongst them, although everyone was polite. She was relieved when Amy led her back to a private office where they were joined by Wally Worth.

"Hey, Rachel," greeted Wally. "It's nice to see you again."

Rachel took the proffered hand gratefully. She'd met Wally in New York with Bo when they thrashed out her deal. Wally was the one who wanted her and it was Wally who pumped her for information about her high school years with Finn. She'd guessed then that he was a shark, an opinion now solidified by her less than warm reception. It was clear that he'd manoeuvred them into taking her on, but he was at least in her corner and a friendly face. Rachel, feeling bolstered by his presence, turned to Amy to try and build fences.

"I am a great admirer of your work, Ms. Trudeau-"

"Amy, please," Amy interrupted. "It's all pretty casual here in LA."

"Amy, of course, thank you," Rachel responded. "I-I know the circumstances of me coming to the project were unusual and I feel that perhaps if I auditioned-"

Wally interjected this time. "No need, Rachel. Amy's seen you in _Earthworks_ and in your _Law&Order_ episodes. Right, Amy?"

Rachel caught the flash of distaste that flit across Amy's face, not sure if it was directed at her or Wally. Rachel's heart sank a little further. She reminded herself that she needed this job. She could work on building relationships once she'd started. Amy recovered and nodded before turning a bright smile on Rachel.

"I'm sure you'll do a great job, Rachel," Amy said, pressing on. "We start filming tomorrow but you won't be needed until Monday." Amy pulled out a couple of scripts and a book. "These are the scripts for the first two episodes and you have scenes in both. That's the book by Ben Shapiro that the series is based on. Ben's a scriptwriter on the show. It's up to you whether you want to read it or not. We're starting with the story but we're not committing to a literal translation. Now," she said, clearly wanting to be elsewhere, "you'll have to excuse me. I have to finish sorting out for the shoot tomorrow."

Rachel watched as Amy gathered things from her desk before holding out her hand.

"Welcome to the show. I'm sorry I don't have more time but I'm sure you'll settle in quickly enough." With that, Amy left Rachel and Wally alone in the office.

"They don't like me," Rachel said dejectedly.

"Nonsense. The network loves you so they love you," Wally said firmly. "Finn may be difficult for a few days but he'll get over it."

Rachel wasn't so sure but kept quiet.

"Him being truculent would be good anyway," Wally continued. "We need to keep the momentum rolling. Your history with Finn is fuelling the internet buzz, so it helps to keep feeding it. None of this is part of the official marketing for the show. It's all underground to pull in younger viewers who love gossip, so I'll need you to keep up a subtle spurned lover persona, at least until the show starts airing."

"Wally," Rachel said, "I'm not really comfortable with doing this without talking to Finn. I'd like to call him, explain and clear the air before we start working together."

"Absolutely not," Wally said sharply. "The best stories have a grain of truth to them. You're both professionals, right? It won't show on screen." Noting Rachel's unhappiness, Wally lowered his voice and said sympathetically, "It's only to get the show off the ground, Rachel. It being a success is a good thing, for both of you but especially for Finn. He's taking a big chance doing this show and putting his movie career on hold. You're actually doing him a favour, right?"

Rachel wasn't sure she was convinced but it was something to hang onto, so she nodded.

"I'll tell you what. Meet me outside Studio 32 at Paramount tomorrow at 2pm. I'll get you clearance onto the lot and we'll go on set. You can have a chance to watch from the shadows, get more comfortable, okay?"

+...+

Finn fidgeted in his dressing gown. He was always uncomfortable with nude scenes even though the army and years of fitness training had given him a body that most men would envy. He wondered whose idea it was to schedule this on the first day. Usually, actors got the chance to get comfortable with each other and the crew first. However, as Saul was eager to remind him, that was in the movies. They did things differently in television.

He was lucky that he had known Sylvia Dulonge for a few years. They'd worked together on _Sultan_ as well as on a charity event where they'd performed Shakespeare scenes at the Hollywood Bowl with a couple of other thespians. They'd be okay together.

"Okay, places please."

Finn walked over to the couch on the set. Sylvia, partially dressed, gave him a sympathetic squeeze of his arm before taking her place standing next to it, ready to continue dressing. Finn removed the dressing gown, passing it to the production assistant, before lying down on the couch to start filming.

+...+

Rachel chewed her lower lip as she waited for Wally outside Studio 32. He had warned her that Finn would be filming. Rachel had buried her past with Finn and it had surprised her how much she remembered about high school when she was put to the test of giving Wally what he wanted. She'd gone no further than the day Finn freed her to go to New York to check out her accommodation at NYADA, the day she thought he was driving her to their wedding. She let Wally think that was the end. No need to disabuse him and certainly no need for her to relive what happened after that again.

Wally arrived with a woman Rachel assumed was his assistant. He didn't bother to introduce them. Wally said that he'd cleared for them to go in. He opened the door slowly and gestured for the two to follow him, closing it quietly behind them.

Warning her to watch for cables on the floor and to be silent, Wally pointed Rachel forward. Rachel crept ahead, hearing no dialogue. Soon, she saw the set and stopped, her breath snatched from her body. Finn was lying on a couch on the set. He was naked. An actress was standing next to him, bending down and kissing him.

Rachel fought to breathe before she passed out. She'd seen Finn in cinemas and on posters everywhere. She knew every line of his face and every muscle of his body and considered herself immune. It was a terrible time to learn that she wasn't and that all those sightings did nothing to prepare her for seeing him in the flesh again for the first time in eleven years. Her heart was in her throat and the studio started to spin.

"Don't faint! Don't faint!" she repeated silently to herself, knowing she'd interrupt the shoot, never mind make a complete idiot of herself. She could hear dialogue but with words were indistinct, like the murmuring of ocean waves. She couldn't make them out until one was shouted.

"Cut."

It was such a relief that Rachel had to put a hand out to steady herself as the blood rushed back down her legs. Her hand was on a chair. She looked down at it gratefully before she realised whose chair it was. She snatched her hand away and looked back towards the set.

Finn, now in a dressing gown, and the actress were hugging and laughing as the crew scurried around, replacing props and resetting the scene for the reversals. Finn called out for a bottle of water. As he unscrewed the cap and brought the bottle to his mouth, he cast a look around the set.

Rachel saw him freeze as their eyes met. After what seemed like an eternity, he drank, not lowering the bottle until it was empty. Giving Rachel a curt wave, he turned away and headed for the director, engaging in what looked like an intense discussion.

Rachel watched as the director looked towards her. Wally, standing next to her with his assistant, nodded at the director. Rachel could see the director was unhappy to see Wally. The director turned back to Finn who in turn cast a glance at Wally and shook his head. The director said something to Finn before finally heading towards them. Finn returned to the set and got ready to start filming again, keeping the dressing gown to lay over himself until he had to discard it.

Rachel could see that the director was harassed.

"Hi," he said, holding out his hand to Rachel. "I'm John Sullivan. I'm directing the first three episodes. You must be our Elsa." They shook hands as he continued. "I've been looking forward to meeting you."

"I'm Rachel Berry and thank you, Mr. Sullivan," Rachel responded. "I'm looking forward to working with you."

"Call me John," he said, looking uncomfortable.

Rachel made a mental note to stop using titles although she suspected that wasn't the source of his discomfort. He confirmed it as he coughed a few times before continuing.

"Um, well, as I say, it's great to see you but I need you and your friend to leave. This is supposed to be a closed set." He cast Wally's assistant a sidelong glance. "We're filming some nudity and the actors, well, they are understandably sensitive to having spectators and particularly journalists here while filming."

Rachel looked in shock at the woman she thought was Wally's assistant and saw her blush. Wally looked set to argue. Rachel reacted speedily.

"John, of course," she said hurriedly. "We did not intend to disrespect the actors' wishes. We'll leave immediately."

Rachel took hold of the woman's arm and brooking no argument from Wally or the woman, she marched off the set. Outside, they were joined a moment later by Wally. Rachel, furious, turned on him.

"I agreed to do what you asked because I wanted the part but if you're going to play these kinds of games, I'm on the first plane back to New York."

"No, you're not," Wally said placidly.

**Drumm: Chapter Five**

_Drumm had been numb since opening Theo's door to Detective Mortimer. The numbness got him through the first five days. On the sixth day, the eve of the funeral, he started feeling again. He hated it and wanted the numbness back. So he went out, hit a club, and did what he hadn't done in years. He bought a needle and he bought heroin. He took them back to Theo's apartment where he'd stayed since the murder, and laid them out on Theo's excuse for a coffee table._

_He sat on the couch, unmoving, for two hours, staring at relief. In those two hours, he fought with the Theo in his head, a Theo who was furious that not only would Drumm be so stupid, but that he had the unmitigated gall to do it in Theo's apartment. Every time Theo gained the upper hand with reason, the needle would sing to Drumm, offering sweet peace. It was still singing when there was a knock at the door._

_Drumm didn't bother hiding the needle and the drug. If it was the cops again, he'd get a different form of relief, one where he was absolved of having to think about what to do with Theo's apartment, Theo's agency, Theo's cases or Theo's death and could hand the responsibility over to someone else._

_"Who?"_

_The Theo in his head wouldn't stop trying to counter every move he made to find a way to oblivion. Maybe the person at the door would shut him up._

+...+

_The person at the door was Lise-Marie. She reached up to throw her arms around his neck and wouldn't let go until Drumm stepped back, levering her off his body as he did. He walked back to the couch wordlessly. She shut the door and followed him. She sat next to him and followed his stare at the items on the table. "What are you doing, Drumm?" she eventually asked._

_"What does it look like I'm doing?" Drumm replied evenly._

_"It looks like you're about to make a really bad mistake," she said sadly._

_The most Lise-Marie would ever do was smoke pot. She had always eschewed the hard stuff and she had tried many times to get Drumm to do the same when they were together, to no avail. She knew she had neither the words nor the influence to stop him now. She still had to try._

_"Why?" she asked softly._

_Drumm looked at her. She saw the deadness in his eyes and knew he was immune to rational argument so she shrugged. He turned his attention back to what lay on the coffee table._

_"If this is for Theo, he wouldn't want it," she said._

_"Theo wouldn't want to be dead. It doesn't matter a rat's ass what Theo wants," Drumm said harshly. Lise-Marie jerked back at the violence of his response. Drumm returned to staring at the coffee table again._

_Lise-Marie knew that if it came to a fight, she couldn't do anything. Drumm would thwart any attempt by her to take the heroin and run. Even if she did manage it, he'd just go buy more. He had to decide not to do this himself. She couldn't do it for him. She sighed and considered leaving but then she'd be worried about him overdosing. She thought about phoning Jack at the warehouse, but he had his own on/off relationship with drugs and wouldn't be of any help. She didn't have numbers for the people who worked for Theo. That left her with one option – distraction. _

_Lise-Marie scooted closer to Drumm before pulling her legs up under her on the couch. She faced Drumm on her knees, putting one hand on his leg. She kissed his cheek. He ignored her. She kissed and licked along his jawline. _

_"Stop it, Lise."_

_She stroked her hand steadily and firmly up his leg as she kissed and then nibbled his earlobe. She felt the reaction as she breathed at the pulse in his neck. It was quickening. Taking her hand from his leg, she put her arms around his neck, twisted her body forward and came to rest on his lap. She ground her ass into him. Drumm opened his mouth, although whether to groan or scold, she didn't wait to find out. She plunged her tongue into his mouth, pulling his head down with one hand while the other found the hem of his t-shirt and slid underneath to stroke his bare back. He finally reacted, his hands grabbing her at the waist, ready to push her away. Before he could, she ground her ass into him harder and curved her fingers of the hand on his back. She ran her nails against his skin firmly, causing him to gasp against her mouth. It was enough. Drumm slid his own hands under Lise-Marie's t-shirt, breaking the kiss long enough for them to remove the t-shirts from each other and drop them on the floor. Returning to plunder each other's mouths, their hands wandered over each other's torso and slid under their waistbands._

+...+

_Later, much later, Drumm watched as Lise-Marie dressed. She had to go. They'd got a replacement drummer for the week and the band had a gig. She bent down as he lay naked on the couch and kissed his lips gently. She glanced at the needle and heroin._

_"Leave them, Lise," Drumm ordered. She threw him an angry look and he rose from the couch. He looked down at her, his hands holding her arms gently. "I'm not promising anything," he said. "Whether I do or I don't, it has to be my decision. And right now, I don't want to touch it. Best I can do. Okay?"_

_Lise-Marie searched his face. Something satisfied her for she nodded and reached up a hand to his cheek. "I'll be there tomorrow," she said softly._

_Drumm nodded his head and watched her leave the apartment. He cast a look down at the coffee table before heading to take a much-needed shower._

+...+

_Attendance at the funeral was sparse. Sid, Alyssa and Mitch were there; so was Cliff. Jack and Lise-Marie came to support Drumm. Johnny and Mags didn't "do" funerals. Theo's ex-wife Lisa turned up which surprised Drumm less than seeing there Detective Elizabeth Mortimer, Theo's old partner on the force. It had been Elizabeth who'd caught the case that miserable night. She'd been forced off it as soon as Theo's identity had been confirmed but not before she found Drumm at Theo's apartment and broke the news. There was another woman there, one Drumm didn't recognise. Long dark hair all but hid a pale face. Drumm walked towards her. As soon as she saw him, she hurried away. He didn't follow._

_A sort of wake was held at Drummond Investigations. Sid said that Theo would want everybody drunk at least and he wouldn't care if they were drinking to celebrate or grieve. Drumm knew Sid was right and didn't argue._

_Drumm was a spectator, drinking little, saying less. He knew Cliff, never one for the formalities, chose the pause between the third and fourth Scotch as the perfect moment for him to read the will for two reasons, both having to do with Lisa Drummond. The first was that Lisa kept throwing bitchy remarks at Elizabeth, making everyone uncomfortable. Lisa had always thought there was something between Theo and Elizabeth. Lisa was only there for the will and would go when she knew what Theo'd left her. Secondly, Cliff knew Theo would approve the timing and it was Cliff's small tribute to his friend. _

_There wasn't a lot to the will. Theo didn't have a lot to leave. He owned the agency and he owned everything in it; the agency's bank account was more adequate than robust. Theo had a long lease on the building, transferable to his heir. He owned his possessions at his apartment, also on a long lease although the landlord would have to approve any new tenants. That was pretty much it and he left everything to Drumm with one proviso: if Drumm used illegal drugs at any time in the year after Theo's death, everything would go to ex-wife Lisa. Drumm silently congratulated Theo on coming up with one of the few ways that could almost guarantee he stayed clean._

_Drumm could have predicted the glower in Lisa's eye, which he ignored. He was more uncomfortable that Theo had not left something for the guys in his team, Sid, Alyssa and Mitch. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got with his dead brother. Not only had Theo deserted him, he'd left him having to worry about the fate of the agency and the lives of the three people who worked there. Drumm threw back the drink in his hand and went to find another._

_Elizabeth approached him quietly. "Drumm, I need a word."_

_Drumm nodded before looking around and realising there was no private corner. He jerked his head, indicating that she should follow him. He hesitated at the door to Theo's office. He'd been in since Theo had been found, but he hadn't lingered, feeling his brother there more strongly than at the apartment. He opened the door and ushered Elizabeth inside._

_Drumm pointed to the visitor's chair for Elizabeth. He glanced at Theo's chair behind the desk before looking around. There was another visitor's chair in the corner against the wall so he pulled that up to sit beside her._

_"Anything?" he asked._

_Elizabeth shook her head. She was seething with anger. "Thurlow gave the case to a rookie detective who doesn't know his ass from his elbow. He's told him that it's probably just a mugging and not to spend too much time on it."_

_Drumm took a deep breath. "Will he, the rookie, will he do that?"_

_Elizabeth gazed at him. "If you want to stay in the job, Drumm, you don't piss off the wrong people. Your brother knew that, he just didn't care. I cared which is why he went down alone." She reddened a little before continuing. "The rookie," she paused, thinking, "yeah, I think he'd be the sort to go along with Thurlow but I don't know. He's too wet behind the ears for me judge whether he's being politically astute or too dumb to get the hint."_

_Drumm shook his head._

_"It's down to you, Drumm," Elizabeth pronounced. "I'll give you what help I can but if you want to know who killed your brother, you're going to have to find out for yourself._

_Drumm threw his hands up. "How the fuck am I supposed to do that, Elizabeth? Theo was the P.I., not me. I just did what I was told."_

_Elizabeth shrugged and stood. "Well, you've got three people in the other room who I bet are willing to help you do it, with or without pay." She held out her hand and Drumm, standing, took it. They shook. "Theo had faith in you, Drumm. You should try and have a little in yourself." _

_With that, Elizabeth left Drumm alone in Theo's office; his office now if he wanted it. He closed his eyes, breathing in Theo for ten minutes before returning to the wake to talk to Sid, Alyssa and Mitch._

+...+

_When Drumm got back to Theo's, he realised that he had a reason not to get in trouble with the cops – not yet. He picked up the needle and crushed it under his foot. The heroin went down the john. Drumm Drummond, private detective (subject to license) didn't do drugs until Theo's killer was dead. After that, well, maybe Lisa could have the business after all._


	6. No One Said It Would Be Easy

**Take the note at the beginning of Chapter One, rinse, repeat. **

**Conceit: Chapter titles are song titles. This one is from Sheryl Crow's breakthrough album, _Tuesday Night Music Club_, in 1993.**

**+...+**

**Chapter Six: No One Said It Would Be Easy**

Rachel had sung her heart out in the recording studio. "The Man That Got Away" was mother's milk to her, not that she'd ever had mother's milk but she understood the concept. She'd made an especial effort to get the tone right having read the scene in the script and in the book where it had appeared within the first few chapters – as far as she'd got, deciding it might be better to be guided by the script alone. She was beyond thrilled when, on set lip-synching over the playback for the first time and after John yelled "Cut," the cast of extras and the crew gave her a standing ovation. That, she figured, was mother's hot chocolate.

John raced over to her. "Rachel, that was great, really great."

Rachel laughed. "Is that a tear in your eye, John?"

He grinned, wiping at his cheek. "Absolutely not."

Rachel and John had formed an easy relationship after their rocky start. He'd guided her through her first episode scenes gently, realising how relatively inexperienced she was at filming. The song part of the scene was the last thing to be done. They already had the Elsa/Theo scene in the can from their work in the morning. It was coincidentally John Iverson's last scene on the show and Rachel and the two Johns had celebrated together over a convivial lunch. Rachel was pleased that Operation Charm was going well.

"You know," John said, taking her arm and leading her back to her chair, newly printed with her name, "I knew you'd knock the singing out of the park and I heard the recording but watching and listening together was magical and I really wasn't expecting that. Good job. If I have my way, that's trailer material."

John left Rachel to relax in her chair while he scurried off to take care of the two thousand and two other things that were his responsibility. Rachel relaxed and watched with interest.

"So, the littlest Jew can still belt it out on cue."

Rachel's head spun round. Her eyes widened in disbelief. "Puck!" Rachel leapt out of her chair, sending it backwards into Puck who struggled to catch it and the woman trying to hug the breath out of him.

"Puck, what are you doing here? I had no idea you were in LA. How long have you been here? How are you? Are you an actor too? What are you doing in LA? What are you doing _here_?" The questions poured out of Rachel so thick and fast that Puck pulled out of the hug to hold his hands up in surrender, laughing.

"Okay, okay. Still a motormouth. Good to know. Um, let's see." Puck started counting on his fingers. "One, I'm here to see you. Two, I've been in LA since graduation. Three, I'm good. Four, no. Five, living it up. Six-" he paused. "What was six again?"

Rachel laughed, realising she didn't remember either. She returned to hugging him. "It's so good to see you," Rachel said, burrowing her face into his body.

"Hey, hey," Puck said, "I know we made out a few times but I didn't think I'd made this much of an impression." He frowned. "What am I talking about? Of course I did!" He returned her hug just as tightly before pushing her back and examining her face. "Tears? Really?"

Rachel sniffed. "It's really good to see an old friend. I'm trying to get along but-" Rachel paused, waving her hand to encompass the whole set. "I'm not that popular with most of them around here." She smiled with determination. "I'm working on it though."

Puck put his arm around her shoulder and was matter-of-fact. "Well, it's only by knowing the really annoying you that people can appreciate the real you. Annoying but brilliant."

Rachel made a face at him before smiling. "So really, why are you here?"

"I come bearing gifts," he said, "or gift anyway. Invitation to dinner, tonight."

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes," Rachel said, jumping up and down. "I would love that."

"Okay, cool. What time you done here? Need to go home first? Although if you want to come in that dress…"

Rachel bathed happily in Puck's leer, twirling to show off the slinky dress that hid little and suggested more. She missed flirting.

"I'll be done by six, I think and I've got some extra clothes here. Where exactly-"

"Casual," Puck interjected. Rachel was impressed that he understood. He'd smoothed away some of his rough edge.

"Okay, I can do casual, so yes, from here. Say seven, for safety."

"Perfect," Puck said. "Gotta go do some organising." He started backing away, heading for the door. "Later, Berry. The driver will be at the gate at seven." He waved and hurried out the door.

Rachel was perplexed. _Driver?_

+...+

Confusion turned to astonishment when the car pulled into a long drive beyond electronic gates. Puck never had said what he was doing in LA and as much as she liked and respected him, she would never have expected this level of success. When the limousine reached the house, Rachel's mouth was agape. It was big, as big as some of the houses she'd seen on rare outings to the Hamptons. Rachel looked down at herself in dismay. In flat slippers, tight black jeans and a sleeveless white shirt covered by an old blazer, she felt seriously underdressed. She didn't realise that the limo had driven off until she turned to crawl back into it and ask to be taken home. She took a deep breath and mounted the stairs to the double doors that marked the entrance. She felt a thought niggle at the back of her mind. She quashed it together with her instinct to run and rang the bell.

Whoever Rachel was expecting to open the door, it wasn't Quinn Fabray.

+...+

"I know you Puckerman. You have your sneaky face on. You've been jumpy since we got here. You're doing something you shouldn't be doing and I demand to know what it is."

Puck shrugged, putting on the oven gloves and opening one of the Aga doors. "Nothing!" Santana was not persuaded. "Nothing major."

Santana took a deep breath, powering up for a full-blown rage. He didn't want it to sink the soufflé in the other oven so he folded. "I invited Rachel."

"Are you out of your fucking mind! Finn will flip and for a change, he'll be right." Santana was standing in front of him, a hand on one hip and her toe tapping. Puck, trying not to get burned by the large casserole he was holding with both hands and feeling the heat through the oven gloves, had to go round her to put the casserole down on the counter.

"No," Puck said, whipping his toasted fingers in the air. "I'm doing him a favour. He's got to work with her and he's got to deal with it. Better here than on set in front of God knows how many strangers. Besides," Puck added, "you were curious to see her again."

"Oh, yeah," said Santana with a side order of sarcasm. "Stupid me for not knowing that you arranged all this behind Finn's back or that you were making Quinn and me accomplices to this crime against nature."

Puck shrugged. "What's he gonna do, Santana? Run away like a baby?"

Santana glared at Puck. "He could fire your sorry ass and I swear I'll waive my fee to help him do it."

"We're brothers. He won't do that." Puck paused before adding, "He'll yell at me, sure, but trust me. I know him. He'll be grateful one day."

Santana shook her head. "If I were you, I'd be praying that it's this day." She turned on her heel and marched back towards the den.

+...+

"Quinn!" Rachel beamed and, after the briefest hesitation, leaned in to hug her old adversary and high school idol who was even more beautiful now. Quinn sustained the hug before pulling back with a soft smile.

"Rachel. It's good to see you."

"Quinn, I'm so sorry I haven't kept in touch with you since you left New York." Rachel knew she was babbling but felt an overwhelming need to justify herself. "I tried but I got so busy with the show and everything."

Quinn held out her hand and drew Rachel into the house. "It's okay, Rachel, I know what it's like. And I think it was me who didn't reply to the last message so stop apologizing." She slid her arm through Rachel's and led her across a large hall towards another set of double doors inside the house. Rachel was looking around in awe.

"Wow," she said, "Puck's done really well for himself."

Quinn's brow furrowed. "Puck?"

"Well, you're still short, you're still loud and you still have the fashion sense of a toddler, I see and hear and shudder. I knew I should have gone back for sunglasses and ear plugs."

Both women turned at the voice.

"Santana? Oh my God, Santana!" Rachel raced over to the slim dark-haired woman and grabbed her. Santana threw her hands up for a moment in shock before grinning and returning the hug.

"Yep, it's me. I know I'm the most popular one in the room but I kind of expected the Rachel Berry I knew to at least try and compete."

Rachel noted that Santana was impeccably dressed, wearing a tight fitting business suit in deep red with a V-neck black blouse that displayed her bosom to budding perfection. Glancing back at Quinn, Rachel saw that she too was smartly dressed in a chic dress with a small floral pattern. At least she was wearing sandals, Rachel thought miserably. She frowned at the two women.

"Puck said casual."

"Listening to Puck is like waiting for Godot," Santana said. Off their confused looks, she added, "Futile! God, I thought you two went to college!"

"I got the reference," Quinn said, indignant. "I just don't know what you're talking about with regard to Puck."

"You will," Santana said darkly.

"What's going on?" Rachel said. She was an actress and of course she knew Beckett. In fact, the whole evening, despite the surfeit of old friends, was turning into one of those surreal scenes the playwright had made his own. She wouldn't have been shocked to find a sandpit waiting to bury her up to her neck.

"Nothing," said Santana, taking Rachel's arm. "Puck doesn't always tell people what they need to know. You look fine. I've come straight from work and you know Quinn. She doesn't do casual. We're in here." She led Rachel through the double doors, shooting back a look of warning at Quinn. Quinn stared at her before following, her mind working furiously.

The room was a den. It was plush, fitted with the best technology that money could buy for watching TV, movies, playing games or playing music. There were three large leather couches in a U-shape in the centre. A large fireplace made up the square. There was a large coffee table within the square, with three glasses already in use set upon it. From a well stocked bar at the side, Santana poured Rachel a white wine at her request and joined them on the couches.

"Puck's in the kitchen. He's cooking," Santana announced, "so have your barf bags ready."

"Do you think he remembers I'm a vegetarian?"

"I thought you were a vegan," Quinn said, recalling Rachel's tendency to bring her own lunches to school.

"I've mellowed," Rachel said, sipping her wine. The other two stared at her with raised eyebrows. Rachel laughed. "I have! Honestly! I mean, I still won't eat meat or anything that was alive," she explained, shivering slightly, "but I'm okay with things like milk and cheese and eggs now."

"Eggs?" Santana was surprised. "I thought Jesse scarred you for life."

"No," Rachel said. "Jesse made reparations." Rachel smiled fondly as the other two exchanged a knowing glance. "Anyway," Rachel said, "what are you doing that you're all businesslike. I know Quinn's in _Drumm_. Are you an actress too?"

Santana laughed. "God, no. I'm a lawyer, a good one obviously. I fight scumbags and right wrongs.

Quinn snorted into her drink.

"Okay, so scumbags pay better. Sue me," she said with a wicked gleam, "and die trying."

"Have you two been in touch all this time?" Rachel was wistful.

"No," Quinn said. "I didn't even know Santana was in LA until recently. We met when-" Quinn caught Santana's head shake in the corner of her eye. "We met when we were invited to the same dinner party and we've kept in touch ever since."

"That's great," Rachel said. "I haven't really had the chance to meet anybody yet. It's nice to have a few ready-made friends around."

Santana's eyebrow arched at the description but she bit back the sarcastic response that burned on her tongue.

"Rachel! I'm glad you're here!"

The women looked up at the sound of Puck's voice and burst into laughter. Puck was standing before them wearing a full apron, the top half of which portrayed a woman's breasts with the words "Squeeze" under one and "These" under the other. On his head was a chef's hat that must have been two feet tall. That paled into insignificance though at the sight of Puck's nose covered in flour.

"What?" Puck said his brow furrowed. "What's so funny? I'll have you know that all the best chefs wear-"

Santana erupted further on the word "best" and he glared at her. Quinn rose from the couch, grabbing her bag. She took out a tissue, licked it, and wiped Puck's nose gently, both reliving a distant memory and smiling.

"You look fine," Rachel said, still giggling. "I just never thought I'd see you so domesticated."

"Wash your mouth out. I'm still a bad boy. I just like to cook."

"Bad boy, bad cook," said Santana. "See how that works?"

Puck's retort was bitten back when he heard activity at the front door. "Right," he said. "Just going to check on the dinner." He raced back out of the room through a smaller door at the far end.

Rachel called out after him. "I'm vegetarian."

He disappeared without responding. Rachael made a puzzled face. She turned to Santana and Quinn and was even more confused. Both were avoiding her gaze, looking down at the carpet, trying to be casual. Rachel felt something drop to the pit of her stomach. She turned to look behind her.

Finn was standing at the door, stone still. He was staring down at her blankly. Rachel felt the blood drain out of her face. She took a couple of deep breaths, realising in a flash that this wasn't Puck's house. Kicking herself for how stupid she'd been, she rose and forced herself to smile.

"Hey, Finn," she said, her voice rising a little. She could feel her nails digging into her palms within the fists she couldn't stop her hands forming. "Thank you for inviting me."

"I didn't," he said slowly.

**Drumm: Chapter Six**

_"I gotta to be honest with you guys," Drumm said, staring into the contents of the untouched beer in front of him. The three others at the table set down their own glasses. Drummond Investigations didn't have a meeting room. Tradition dictated that staff meetings took place as Juan's Bar and Grill next door, a tradition that Drumm saw no reason to defy. _

_"I don't know that I'm going to keep the agency once I find Theo's killer." Drumm's voice cracked on the name of his brother but he pressed on. "I'm not an investigator, I'm a musician and I don't think I can do both properly. And I get that you might want to start looking around for something more secure. But, here's the kicker. I'm asking you to stay because I can't find out who murdered my brother without you."_

_"I'm going nowhere," said Sid firmly. "The market for crippled ex-cops over sixty is kind of limited."_

_Sid was the backbone of the business and without him, there wasn't a chance Drumm could keep it going. Drumm nodded gratefully but kept his head down. He didn't want Mitch and Alyssa to feel pressured by the tears he could feel welling up in his eyes._

_"I'm not going to lie, Drumm," he heard Alyssa say. "I have obligations, you know?"_

_Drumm did know. Alyssa Woodruff lived with her mom who was crazy and had been for a long time. Alyssa's dedication to her runaways was borne of watching her father beat her mother over years, a situation that only stopped when thirteen-year-old Alyssa cracked open his head with one of his own golf clubs. If the police hadn't found Alyssa's mom near beaten to death in the corner, Alyssa's future would have been bleak. The cops accepted that Alyssa had saved her mom's life. Her recompense was that her mom subjected her daily to rambling recriminations about the loss of her husband._

_"But," she continued, "so long as you keep paying me, I'll stay. Besides, you need at least one licensed P.I. in the building. Somebody needs to have a gun."_

_Drumm nodded again and waited for the last employee of Drummond Investigations to speak. After an eternity of silence, Drumm finally raised his head to stare at Mitch. Seeing the wide smile on his face, Drumm threw him a counterfeit punch to punish him for the fake-out. Mitch jerked back and laughed. It was cathartic and the sombre mood lifted a little._

_"Okay, thanks guys. I'm-I'm-" Drumm shook his head. "Thanks."_

_Sid stepped in. "The business is fine. Theo gave me the responsibility for running it a long time ago and nothing much has to change except-" Sid paused and put a hand on Drumm's shoulder. "Drumm, we'll need you to do more. Alyssa and Mitch can cover a lot of it but if we're going to keep the clients we have satisfied, we're going to need another investigator and, while the business is good, it's not good enough to afford to get another one in as well as have you."_

_"I know," Drumm said quietly. "I'm gonna talk to the band later; see whether they want me to step out or if they're okay with me just turning up for gigs. I think Jack is going to want me to stick with the agency, at least until we find his sister."_

_"Speaking of which," Mitch interjected. He produced a couple sheets of paper and placed them in front of Drumm. "Ta da!"_

_"What's this?" Drumm asked._

_"The bottom one is a list of completed cases where threats were made to Theo or the agency," Mitch explained. "The other is the list of ongoing cases that Theo was working on solo, or without us anyway, that Sid did for the cops, with an addition."_

_"Addition?" Drumm was puzzled why they'd keep stuff back from the cops until Sid pointed to the last item. Then he understood. "Right."_

_Sid explained that while there were other cases, Theo had worked on them with Mitch or Alyssa and the two of them would continue with those, checking out whether any threw up people who'd want Theo dead. The list was of those cases that Theo was working on alone or had used only Drumm for._

_"What I'm thinking, Drumm," Sid said, "is that whoever killed Theo, they come from one of these cases. It's not cast iron, but going through everything else, there really doesn't seem to be any motive. These, we can't judge without knowing a lot more about them. Theo either kept them very close to his chest or sent you. You should fill Alyssa in on what you know about these, if anything, that isn't in any of the reports you've filed. She'll do the investigating. As for you, you can help out the two of them with the run of the mill stuff." _

_Drumm examined the list carefully._

Cantor Corporation. Contact: Sophie Cantor

Sally Strong – Missing person. Contact: Jack Strong

Georgina Jensen – Surveillance. Contact: Jeffrey Jensen

Williams, Rodriguez, Thompson, Washington, Cho – Divorce. Contact: Cliff Norris

Thurlow

_"No," Drumm said slowly, "these are the ones I want to work on."_

_Sid and Alyssa voiced objections at the same time. Drumm held up his hand to quell them._

_"I know, I know. I'm the rookie but I need to do this guys. I promise that if I come up with anything, I'll bring you in but for now at least, it needs to be me." Drumm could see they weren't convinced. "Look," he continued, "I've got the name and I've got the excuse to talk to-" he checked the list, "Sophie Cantor and Jeffrey Jensen. Theo told me where he was on Sally and Cliff will tell me what he knows anyway. As for Thurlow, until we find Theo's file on him, we've got nothing except Elizabeth who thinks she owes Theo. I can take advantage of that better than any of you." They'd searched Theo's office for the thick file they all knew must have existed on Thurlow but found nothing. _

_"Drumm," Alyssa said, "it could be dangerous. Whoever did this took on an armed ex-cop and Theo was no slouch with a gun. You're just a-"_

_"A drummer in a rock and roll band," Drumm finished. "Yeah, I know. And I'm not saying I'm more invested in finding Theo's killer than any of you but I am saying that I'm going to be the one to find him."_

_"Or her," Mitch added dryly. "Okay, Drumm, we get it. Avenging brother and all that, but you have to be logical. You need to start with what Theo was doing in the missing hours."_

_Theo had still been at the agency at 6pm when Sid left for the night. Alyssa confirmed that he was at the Pink Leopard from 10pm-2am. His body was found at 4am. That was six hours unaccounted for – 6pm to 10pm and 2am-4am._

_"Which is why I want to concentrate on these; one or more of these would be the most likely thing Theo was doing, right?" The others were still sceptical about Drumm running with it but agreed that he was making sense. "So," Drumm said, pressing on to forestall further debate. "What do we know about Cantor Corp.?"_

_"Other than that your brother locked his office door whenever he saw Sophie Cantor," said Sid. "Nothing."_

+...+

_"It's bloody well not on, mate. We need a soddin' drummer, not a part-time dick."_

_Drumm could see that despite his anger, Johnny was proud of his lame double entendre. He sighed. He knew Johnny would have no patience with Drumm short-changing the band. Jack would be saying the same thing if he wasn't so torn between Pandemic and finding his sister. Lise-Marie wasn't saying anything and he couldn't read her face when he glanced at her. It was Mags who predictably came to his rescue._

_"Well," she said lazily, "as an expert on dicks, I'd say a part-time one we know who can write the songs Drumm can is better than a full-time wanker. One's enough for any band."_

_"Shut up, you fuckin' old cow," Johnny fired back at her._

_When they were "off," it was guaranteed that Mags and Johnny would take contrary positions on every subject under the sun. Drumm smiled to himself as the two of them swapped invectives. One thing he'd say for the English; the swearing was creative._

_"Stop it!"_

_Drumm was startled by the loudness of Lise-Marie's normally soft voice. The others must have been too for Johnny and Mags stopped, both in mid-sentence. Having gained everyone's attention, Lise-Marie continued._

_"My vote is we continue using Bill when Drumm can't do a gig. He knows our stuff. Drumm stays in the band. As for new songs, well, we'll just have to work on them ourselves and trust Drumm can devote enough time to work on the beats himself."_

_Mags raised her arm. "You got my vote."_

_"No," said Johnny, firmly. "It's a band, not a fuckin' charity."_

_"That's two to one," Lise-Marie said. "Jack?"_

_Everyone looked at Jack who hadn't said a word since Drumm had said he wanted more time away from the band. Drumm wasn't sure that Jack needed the extra incentive but gave it to him anyway._

_"Jack," he said slowly, "I don't need a lot and I can draw money from the agency. You'll have to pay Bill but nights I'm playing, you guys split the money four-ways."_

_Jack stared at him and then nodded wordlessly._

_"Bloody hell!" Johnny yelled. "You lot are fuckin' morons! We're never going to get out of playing pissant bars for beer money. You all make me sick!" He stomped out. Mags smirked. _

+...+

_Drumm didn't own a suit. Theo owned many and Drumm found one where the two inch gap wasn't too egregious. He wore it to the funeral and he wore it again now as he sat in the reception area of Cantor Corp. trying to pull the sleeves of the jacket down a little further. He'd given the receptionist his name and asked for Sophie Cantor._

_Sid had been wrong about knowing nothing. They knew what the public knew. Cantor Corp. was a privately-held small pharmaceutical company. It was started by Bernard Cantor after the First World War to try and find immediate relief for the victims of mustard gas burns. Since then it had grown into a business that made the Cantor family rich and the name respected. They presented themselves uniquely, claiming to be guided by ethics and need rather than profit and expediency. That was the extent of Drumm's knowledge._

_"Mr. Drumm? Can I help you?"_

_Drumm looked up into the eyes of the woman he had last seen leaving Theo's office, the day he died. They were blank. He stood hurriedly._

_"Miss Cantor," he said, holding out his hand. "I'm Drumm- I'm Thomas Drummond, Theo Drummond's brother."_

_She ignored the proffered hand._

_"I'm sorry. I have no idea who that is." _


	7. Don't Pass Me By

**Take the note at the beginning of Chapter One, rinse, repeat. Thanks to all of you who are sticking with this story. We few, we happy few, we band of buggered (Shakespeare according to Spike) if the muse departs… **

**Conceit: Chapter titles are song titles. It's the Beatles, from the _White Album_.**

**+...+**

**Chapter Seven: Don't Pass Me By**

The room was deathly quiet. Finn didn't notice the other two faces turned to him. He saw only Rachel's and he saw her go pale. It snapped him out of the catatonia brought on by the shock of seeing her in his home. Whatever else the maelstrom of feelings he was experiencing meant, he would never deliberately hurt her.

"Good to see you, Rachel. I'm glad you're here. Really, I am. I just- I didn't know you were coming."

"Puck invited me," Rachel said, her voice tremulous.

"Yeah, I kind of figured that," Finn said. Neither of them had moved so he shook off the lethargy and walked towards her, smiling. He saw the tension in her body flee as she responded with a huge grin. Finn stopped in front of her, not sure what to do. He should have guessed she would take charge.

"I'm going to hug you now, okay?"

Finn nodded and held out his arms. Rachel flew into them, locking her hands behind his back. Finn marvelled that she moulded herself against his body in the way he still remembered, as if his skin and muscles had formed a permanent imprint on him that only she could fill. He felt the urge to linger but the stirrings of other feelings made him pull away. He let her go and Rachel fell back onto the couch, smiling. She was still as sexy as hell. He turned, needing distraction.

"Hey, Quinn." She was sitting on the other couch so Finn bent down to kiss her on the cheek. Santana was on her feet, watching him with mocking eyes. He approached her to kiss her cheek, not expecting her hands on his shoulders and her whisper in his ear.

"That was playing it cool? I can't believe they thought about giving you an Oscar."

Finn would have laughed if he hadn't agreed that his skills had deserted him for a moment. He prolonged the hug to give himself a chance to focus. Santana must have recognised what he was doing because she increased the pressure of her hold for a few seconds until he was ready to pull away.

"Well, this is quite the McKinley High reunion." Rachel said brightly, raising her glass.

"Not quite," said Finn. "Puck seems to be making himself scarce at the moment. I better go tell him I'm going to murder him." Finn turned to the door where Ben was leaning against the frame, observing the scene with interest. "And we have a westerner in the mix," Finn said. When Rachel and Finn's relationship ended, Ben had been the shoulder Finn had cried on. Finn knew that Ben would be extremely curious about the girl who had reduced his fearless army buddy to quivering jelly. "Ben! Let me introduce you to Rachel."

Ben walked down to the couches, holding out his hand to Rachel. "I don't need an introduction," he said. "I'd recognise Rachel Berry anywhere."

Rachel blushed and took his hand.

"Rachel, this is Ben Shapiro. He and I were in the army together and Ben wrote-"

"_Drumm_," she said quickly, "I know." Rachel pumped Ben's hand. "I've really enjoyed the few chapters I've read, Ben."

"That bad, was it?" Ben asked dryly.

"No, no, that's not what I meant, not at all," Rachel said, reddening at her gaffe. "I mean, I loved it but Amy said you may not be following it for the show plus I thought that it might make for a better performance if I don't know what's to come."

"So you have no idea of what happens?" Santana asked, her smirk badly hidden. Finn knew what she was doing and decided that this was the perfect moment for his exit, but not before attempting to shut the shit-stirring down.

"Rachel doesn't need to read the book. A lot of actors don't read books turned into projects because they want to find their own meaning and understanding of their characters as the story unfolds. Don't spoil her." He gave Santana a hard look. She shrugged and sat down.

"Now, if you'll all excuse me, I need to go and find Mr. Puckerman. If I end up throwing the food at him, I'll take us all out to dinner." He turned to Rachel. "Vegan, right?"

Rachel looked surprised that he found it so easy to remember. There was a time he didn't. "Yes, um, no, actually. Vegetarian."

Finn nodded and walked out of the room. He walked steadily down the hall towards the kitchen, stopping only when he was out of earshot of the den. He leaned against the wall and shut his eyes. He sank down to the floor, his mind working furiously.

_Pull yourself together, you idiot. It's over and it's been over a long time. Stop acting like a love sick puppy. Start acting like a-_

Finn's eyes flew open. That was it. He needed to _act_. He needed to act his heart out. He was the old friend and that's all he was. Whatever it had been and however it ended, their relationship now was strictly platonic, friendly and easy and, on set, professional. That was his role. Playing that part would get him through. Finn took several moments to set the character firmly in his head. For a fleeting moment, he felt something break inside. He pushed it firmly away. Whatever it was, it didn't belong to this new Finn Hudson.

+...+

"So, you thought this was a good idea?"

Puck froze at the open refrigerator door. _Time to pay the piper._ He closed the door and turned to see Finn leaning against the kitchen's doorframe. He studied Finn's face and let out his breath. He wasn't in trouble.

"Yeah," Puck said, shrugging. "You had to see her sooner or later. This way, there'd be alcohol handy. You know how parsimonious TV studios are with the libations."

Finn didn't move. "You should have told me, Puck," he said gravely.

"Oh, get over yourself," Puck said, "and stop pretending to be mad at me."

Finn grinned and walked into the kitchen. "Seriously, you should have told me. I was an idiot out there. At least I could have been prepared."

"Where would be the fun in that?" Puck said as he chopped up some fresh tomatoes. Finn punched him on the arm, hard. "Ow!"

"'Parsimonious?' 'Libations?' When did you swallow a dictionary?" Finn asked as he helped himself to a tomato. Puck smacked his hand with the flat of the knife.

"You remember that hot chick who worked in the LA public library? We met that time you were researching for _Traders Drift_?" Finn nodded. "She had a way with pillow talk. Besides, ever since you started coming home spouting Shakespeare and playwrights who don't know words of less than three syllables, I've had to keep up somehow."

Finn laughed and grabbed tomato, escaping Puck's slap by jumping away as he did so. "Rachel's a vegetarian. Are we okay here?" He looked suspiciously at the casserole dish.

Puck was offended. "I didn't go to Gourmet-a-Go-Go for nothing you know! I know what I'm doing."

"Since when?" Finn said as he walked out of the kitchen.

+...+

"Have you read the whole book, Quinn?" Rachel asked. Rachel had moved and she and Quinn were on one couch, watching Ben and Santana on the opposite one debating the depiction of lesbians in modern fiction.

"I have," Quinn said, sipping her wine. "I kinda had to after my audition."

"Why?"

Quinn told Rachel about the scene she was asked to read. Rachel, having read that far in the book, knew it.

"Oh, my God! How did you do that in an audition?"

Quinn laughed. "It wasn't that bad. I was already freaked out by Finn being there so it gave me something else to concentrate on. We weren't expected to take our clothes off or anything. It's such a cold scene anyway. There wasn't much to do but writhe."

"I'm not sure I could have done that," Rachel said. Quinn shrugged, but didn't comment. "So," Rachel continued hesitantly, "did Finn get you the part?"

Quinn appraised Rachel curiously, a little offended. "He swears he didn't, said I nailed the audition. He did tell me about it though, called me to say they were looking for someone I might be right for."

"Sorry, I didn't mean-" Rachel paused. "Of course, you nailed it. I just, with Finn not wanting me and everything, I thought he made the decisions…"

"Rachel, I don't think Finn had anything to do with that. Your name never even came up as far as I know until we all read the papers. And he may have influence, but I don't think he had any say in who was actually cast."

Rachel looked confused. "That's not what I was told."

"Haven't you got it, Rachel? We were used, both of us. After my audition, Wally Worth insisted on taking me out to dinner. He was excited about Finn and I being high school sweethearts. He pumped me for everything I could remember and I, well, I wanted the part so I went along. A lot of what was in the paper was stuff I told him, twisted out of all recognition."

"What was twisted out of all recognition?"

Both women jumped slightly, not having noticed that Finn had rejoined the group in the den and was behind them with a beer in his hand.

Quinn looked up at him. "I was telling Rachel about my dinner with Wally."

"Ah," Finn said moving over to the middle couch and sinking into it, "when you getting pregnant and kicked out of the house by your father turned into me being responsible for making you homeless. I remember it well." He was smiling. Quinn had already told him all about Wally's interest in them.

"Well, you did sing," said Quinn placidly.

"I know," agreed Finn. "If I hadn't done that your mom and dad would have been delighted when they finally noticed you were pregnant. Why are we talking about this?"

"I think Wally worked his magic on Rachel too," Quinn said.

Rachel was stricken with guilt and at being so exposed. She gasped for breath. "I-I…"

"Rachel, it's okay," Finn said, reassuringly. "This is Hollywood. It happens all the time and I'm over it. I knew he'd talked to you. Some of that stuff could only have come from you. Just tell me you didn't say anything about the mailman that he's holding back for later."

Rachel shook her head but Finn saw Quinn blush. Finn threw his hands up in the air. Quinn mouthed "Sorry" at him.

"Finn, I'm so sorry that I told him stuff. I needed to get out of New York and I've always dreamed of an HBO mini-series. I let my enthusiasm outweigh my judgement." She paused and looked directly at him. "Again."

Finn looked away and Rachel kicked herself for bringing up the past. The wine was making her sloppy and she swore to watch her consumption more carefully. Having now been exposed, though, she wanted him to hear it all.

"Wally wants us to be fighting. He told me not to talk to you about this, to play the 'spurned ex-lover,' saying there needed to be grains of truth in it to keep the story going in the press. I just don't want to give him more stuff to beat you with in the press."

"Don't worry about me, Rachel, I can take care of myself. Do what you need to do."

Before Rachel could respond, Puck announced that dinner was served.

+...+

The dinner had gone well. There was laughter, a few tears and a rousing game of Pictionary that had Santana insisting that pointing at her to illustrate the word "bitch" was against the rules only to be further mortified by the portrait that Finn drew of her. Rachel and Quinn were sharing the limo back to their respective homes, full and content. Rachel felt the air had been cleared. They hadn't discussed Wally's machinations any further but she at least knew that Finn didn't hate her.

"Driver," Quinn said, "aren't we going to Rachel's place first?"

"No ma'am," he said, "that would be the long way around."

"What's up, Quinn?" Rachel asked. Twelve years as an actress had made her much more observant. Quinn was concerned.

"What?" Quinn was startled. "Oh, oh nothing. Nothing." She waved her hand dismissively and gazed out of the windows.

Rachel wondered idly what was bothering her. They'd had a lovely evening and Rachel had detected no undercurrents beyond herself and Finn. If anything, Quinn was more carefree than Rachel had ever seen her, flirting lightly most of the night with Puck. Rachel gazed out her own window, only then noticing the area they were in. It wasn't the best of LA.

"Tell me about your place," Rachel said, realising what was going on.

Quinn spun her head round to stare at Rachel before dropping her eyes. "It's horrible. I can move now but I just haven't had time to look for an apartment with work and everything."

"Come stay with me!" It came as such a flash of inspiration to Rachel that she couldn't help but shout it. "Please! There's room for ten more and after my New York apartment, I feel like I'm rattling around in a warehouse." The truth was that the beach house wasn't that big but it did have three bedrooms and Rachel wasn't lying when she said she wasn't used to so much space on her own, space made grander by the glass that separated the house from the view of the vast ocean.

"I can't," Quinn protested. "It's nice of you, Rachel, but honestly."

"You'd be doing me a favour, I swear. It's a beach house. You can swim in the ocean every morning if you want to. I've got it for six months at least. You can take your time looking for your own place. Please, Quinn, please, please, please!"

Quinn laughed and promised to think about it. That wasn't enough for Rachel. When the car finally stopped outside the Luxury Hills Complex and Motel, Rachel told the driver to wait as she was going to escort Quinn to her room.

"Rachel, there's no need for this. I'm perfectly capable of getting to my room."

Rachel, her arm linked in Quinn's, refused to be dissuaded even when they reached the door. Quinn sighed and opened it, turning on the switch just inside. Rachel was horrified and Quinn, seeing it through her eyes, didn't blame her. Rachel squealed as a cockroach ran across the floor in front of them, disappearing under the bed.

"Okay. You're not just coming to live with me. You're coming now."

**Drumm: Chapter Seven**

_Drumm stared at the blonde woman. She didn't blink. Her face was blank and impassive. _

_"Let me show you out."_

_Sophie took hold of Drumm's elbow to lead him to the entrance of the office building. Drumm jerked his arm away and stayed standing on the spot, his anger bubbling. The words seethed quietly out of him. "Listen, lady, unless you have a twin, I know for a fact you're lying and you know I know. So stop with the games."_

_Sophie cast a glance over Drumm's shoulder. He followed it and could see two burly security men standing by the elevator doors. They were showing an interest in Sophie and Drumm. Drumm looked back at Sophie. The shake of her head was so quick, that he wasn't absolutely sure that she'd done anything. Nonetheless, he let her lead him to the entrance. There, she finally held out her hand._

_"I'm sorry I couldn't help you," she said firmly, shaking his hand. Then, in a voice hardly above a whisper yet brimming with rage, she added, "Tell Theo I'll be at his office at 6pm. Don't ever come back here again." _

_Between the shock of being so effectively dismissed and Sophie not knowing Theo was dead, Drumm let himself be ushered out of the building, staring back through the glass doors once he was outside. He watched Sophie walk back to the elevators, nod at the security men and disappear into one of the lifts. Drumm realised he needed to get better at this investigating stuff pronto or he'd never find out who killed his brother._

_Drumm checked his watch. If everyone was as helpful as she was and he was as useless as he was proving to be, it was going to be a short day._

+...+

_Elsa stared at the face in the mirror. Some mornings she struggled to recognize the person who stared back at her. This was one such morning. Her eyes were tinged with pink and she would swear that the lines leading out from the sides of them had deepened. Her lips were full and swollen. Her cheeks were reddened as if by a rash. That would fade quickly she knew from experience. What was taking longer to fade was the deep bruise on her left cheek. She'd need to use the cover-up again tonight. She sighed. It was the cost of getting into bed with a man like Wilson Sallis._

_Glancing down the mirror, she saw that the tops of her arms had fresh bruises, ones "lovingly" bestowed. That was a bigger challenge today because all her stage dresses with sleeves were at the dry cleaners and wouldn't be back until tomorrow. She needed a new dress._

_Elsa applied make-up carefully, disguising the bruised cheek. Satisfied, she walked into the bedroom. Sallis was still asleep, his body sprawled across the bed, corner to corner. He was a big man, six foot two and stocky. The first time they'd had sex, Elsa had felt swallowed into nothingness as she was enveloped by him. It helped. It made separating her inner self from what she was doing easier. _

_She dressed quickly and quietly. If she was lucky, she'd be able to slip out before Sallis woke up or before his goon Tony turned up. Tony would insist on checking with the boss first that it was okay for her to go out shopping. The bruise on her cheek was the result of Tony reporting on one of her unauthorised excursions. She heard stirrings from the bed. She wasn't going to be lucky._

_"Hey, princess," Sallis said sleepily from the bed. "Where are you going? Come back to bed."_

_Elsa smiled and sat on the bed at his side. Sallis put out his arm, his hand going to the back of her head. He pulled her head down and kissed her, sinking his tongue into her open mouth. After a moment, Elsa pulled back and pouted._

_"I need a new dress, Wilson," she said. Sallis never let anyone call him Wilson. She was the only one._

_"Princess, you have lots of dresses. You don't need anymore." He started undoing the buttons on her shirt. She let him open it and slip it from her shoulders. The marks on her arms stood out boldly._

_"That's why I need a new dress. All the ones that would cover those are in the dry cleaners and I need something for tonight."_

_Sallis stroked the bruises on her arms proudly. "You see what you make me do, princess? You shouldn't be so beautiful. Or so fuckable." The strokes turned quickly into a vice-like grip as Sallis lifted and threw Elsa down onto the bed, climbing on top of her._

_Elsa didn't care that Sallis wasn't one for foreplay. The quicker it was over, the quicker she could leave._

+...+

_Jeffrey Jensen was an obstetrician with swanky offices downtown. Drumm felt like a grizzly in a museum; lurking, clumsy and out of place in a waiting room full of women, many with distended bellies, casting him a mix of curious, disapproving and appreciative glances. It was no comfort. He was afraid to even reach out for a magazine, frightened that he might poke one with his elbow. He glanced at the receptionist. She was watching him and smirking. _

_After what seemed like an eternity, the receptionist called out his name, slightly stressing "Mister" for the amusement of all. Drumm gratefully made for the closed door of Jensen's office, ignoring the smiles and giggles._

_Jensen was at his desk. He was a small man, balding and with glasses. He was dressed meticulously and Drumm noted that he signed papers in the same way, with care and precision. He didn't interrupt his work as Drumm entered._

_"Ah, Mr. Drummond, I'm sorry to keep you waiting and I meant to call you but I really don't appreciate you turning up here-" Jensen looked up and stopped in surprise. "Who are you?"_

_It bothered Drumm that these people who'd used his brother had no idea that he was dead. He knew it shouldn't. He never cared to note the names of victims of random crimes. People didn't care unless it was someone they knew. But Theo's clients did know him. They fucking should have noticed._

_"I'm Thomas Drummond, Mr. Jensen. Theo Drummond's brother." _

_"Oh, right." Jensen looked confused. "What can I do for you, Mr. Drummond? Has your brother sent you? I would have expected a call or something," he added critically._

_"My brother's dead, Dr. Jensen."_

_"D-dead! Oh my," Jensen stuttered. "I-I'm so sorry. Was it sudden?"_

_"As sudden as a bullet can be. May I sit down?" Drumm pointed to the chair._

_"Y-yes. Yes, of course." Jensen was so flustered that Drumm thought his pen would jump out of his hand. "Um, I'm so very sorry to hear that. W-when did this happen?"_

_"It was last Friday," said Drumm, "technically the early hours of Saturday morning. Did you see my brother on Friday, Dr. Jensen?"_

_"See him? Uh, no, no I didn't. I was due to see him tomorrow actually but I was going to call. I've been so busy and-"_

_"Call?"_

_"Yes, yes, you see," he stumbled on, "my wife and I, we've had a long talk and we've decided to wipe the slate clean. She knew I was suspicious and she-she confessed. She's promised to end it, and I-I've decided to forgive her. I was going to call your brother to tell him that I didn't need his services anymore. I-I'll pay everything I owe, of course."_

_Drumm watched as Jensen opened a drawer and pulled out a large chequebook, his hand shaking. Drumm couldn't tell if he was just intimidated or embarrassed by admitting to being such a sucker. "How much?"_

_Drumm shrugged. "Wait for the invoice. Did your wife know that you'd hired Theo?"_

_"Oh, goodness, no. No, I didn't tell her that. She'd have been so angry." Jensen shuddered. _

_Drumm always thought the hen-pecked husband was a creation of literature but here was one in front of him. He had to stop himself from snorting. "What about the pictures we already have?"_

_"P-pictures? Oh, I don't want to see them. I just-" Jensen looked like he would faint. "C-can you destroy them? I agreed that the past was the past but I don't know if I can-." Jensen furrowed his brow, deep in thought. "Wait. Maybe I better have them and then I can destroy them. Is that okay?"_

_"Sure," said Drumm, his contempt barely hidden. "I'll get them sent with the invoice."_

_"Thank you, Mr. Drummond." Jensen rose from his desk, holding out his hand. "I'm sure you must think me a weak man but I love my wife, you see, whatever she's done."_

_Drumm shook the sweaty hand briefly and nodded before leaving the doctor to his delusions. _

+...+

_"There's nobody, Drumm."_

_Drumm looked up from the file. Cliff was unusually casual, his jacket off and his sleeves rolled up. They'd spent the afternoon going through Cliff's files, all the ones that Theo or the agency had worked on._

_"I mean, I know that people can be crazy, but I'm not a good enough lawyer to have caused that much damage to anybody."_

_"Stop bragging. You're a much better lawyer than you ever admit to." This was something that Drumm knew for sure. Cliff, jack of all legal trades, had got him out of every scrape with the law he'd had in his bad years, including shutting down Thurlow's attempts to put Drumm in jail for the incident that led to Theo's dismissal. _

_A smile flitted across Cliff's lips at Drumm's faith in him, however misplaced. "Besides," Cliff continued, "if vengeful husbands or wives were going to go after anybody, it would be me, not Theo. What good would it do anybody to kill him?"_

_Drumm leaned back in his chair and sighed. Cliff had a good point. All the old cases were over. Theo had done the job, the consequences were already played out. The only ones that weren't were the five ongoing cases and Cliff had already disclosed what they'd got on Rodriguez. Despite Drumm claiming them, Alyssa and Mitch had already done their own digging on the others, finding nothing. One couple, the Washingtons, had actually reconciled. Drumm dropped their file on top of the others. "Is it usual for people to change their minds about divorcing?"_

_"Very," said Cliff, starting to put files back in boxes. "Why?"_

_"Nothing," Drumm said, "just that it's the second time today I've seen it. Damn it!" Drumm banged on the desk, making the contents jump and spilling a couple of files and their contents onto the floor. Cliff frowned at him._

_"Tut-tut. Temper, kid."_

_Drumm was not mollified. "I don't know what I'm doing, Cliff. How did I ever think I could get anywhere?" _

_"Talk about selling yourself short." Cliff moved a couple of boxes off his desk and sat down. "Listen, did you ever wonder why your brother did what he did the night he caught you?"_

_"All the time," Drumm said darkly._

_"It was because he knew how smart you were and what prison can do to smart people. They survive, sure, but they lose their soul in the process. Theo always blamed himself for not measuring up to your dad and being a good father to you. He wasn't going to let you go that way. He had faith in you, kid. So do I. Now," he said, rising again to continue putting his office back into some semblance of order, "if you're finished blubbering, I'd like to at least pretend to have a tidy desk."_

_Drumm checked his watch. "Crap! Sorry, Cliff, can't help," he said, shooting out of the chair. It's nearly 6. I've got to go."_

_"Yeah, yeah. Just like a kid, disappearing at clean up time. What's so important anyway?"_

_Drumm shouted as he raced out the door. "I've got to get back to the office. I'm meeting Theo's lady."_

_Cliff muttered that there were some who would like to be doing the same. He shouted back as Drumm reached the door to the street. _

_"If it's the blonde, give her my number!"_


	8. Take My Breath Away

**The _Glee_ characters belong to _Glee_, the rest of the characters belong to me. This story is made much better by wood-u-like-2-no's contribution as beta and soundboard. Read his stories. They are bloody marvellous.**

**Conceit: Chapter titles are song titles. It's Berlin's 1986 contribution to the effort that shot _Top Gun_ to blockbuster and Tom Cruise to superstardom. **

**+...+**

**Chapter Eight: Take My Breath Away**

"How'd it go?"

Rachel had been swimming in the ocean. Quinn, sitting on the veranda with a script had watched her walk up the beach. It was twilight and she had only been back about ten minutes, having filmed at the studio all day.

"Good," Quinn said airily as Rachel mounted the steps up to the veranda.

Rachel, rubbing a towel vigorously over her wet hair, said, "But…"

Quinn laughed. She'd missed the moment when Rachel became quite so attuned to the emotions of others. She didn't know if Rachel had learned it at NYADA or from Finn who'd always had the innate skill when he wasn't being dumb or wilfully blind.

"But," she said thoughtfully, "I'm finding some of this stuff hitting close to home, you know?"

Rachel took the swinging seat next to the chaise longue on which Quinn had parked. Rachel pulled up her legs, resting her chin on her knees and stared out at the ocean.

"I think so," Rachel said, "although, other than singing, and ambition, I'm not sure I'm too like Elsa."

Quinn deliberately exaggerated raising her eyebrows and staring at Rachel. Rachel laughed.

"Okay, okay. So singing and being ambitious is close-"

Quinn snorted.

"Accurate," Rachel quickly amended. She continued scanning the horizon as she pondered. "I don't know. Maybe I should read the book. If the story really is using our history together, I need to brace myself."

"You're committed now, Rachel," Quinn replied. "Why spend time worrying about that before you have to? I almost wish I'd stayed ignorant. And you know they may not go the same way so you'd end up worrying about nothing."

Rachel sighed. "You're always so smart."

"Said to the girl who was pregnant at sixteen and thought being a bitch was cool."

"You were cool, way cooler than me."

Quinn laughed. "Be honest, Jacob Ben-Israel was cooler than you."

Rachel glared back at her, offended, until the truth of it hit her. "Oh, God, you're right," she said, her head dropping onto her knees. "You know, I still have some of those clothes. What was it with me and furry little animals?"

"What? Like the four hundred stuffed ones on your bed?"

Rachel grinned. "They're so cute."

They stared out at the vista companionably for a while, until Rachel glanced at the script in Quinn's hands. She sighed loudly and jumped from the swinging seat.

"I need to look at mine again for tomorrow. Make sure I'm perfect. It's my first scene with Finn and I can't get rid of the butterflies."

"You'll be fine. He's actually really great to work with, very supportive."

"Do you miss it," Rachel asked, "the immediacy of Broadway? It's what I miss most. I'd sing, people would cheer. Wow, that sounds really needy, doesn't it?"

"It does, but I get it," Quinn said. "It took me a while to adjust but I did. Plus here, you've got something you don't get on Broadway. You get to watch the finished work, experience it with the audience, and hopefully watch it grow. We have to wait for that but when it comes, unless we flop horribly, it'll be a real thrill, I promise."

Rachel still looked nervous. Quinn knew it wasn't missing Broadway that was responsible.

+...+

Other than Finn, the only other person on set who terrified Rachel was Janet Cressby. She ruled wardrobe with an iron sceptre and didn't care if she was screaming at one of her own seamstresses, an actor or the president of the network. She was tolerated because she was a genius in both design and thrift but she'd already had Rachel close to tears twice. Rachel was determined that it wasn't going to happen a third time.

"I can't breath in any harder, Janet," she complained as she was poured into a dress that gave her an hourglass figure Scarlet Johansson would have envied. Rachel was convinced that she wasn't big enough top or bottom to pull it off.

"You can and you will," Janet dictated without mercy. "Now, suck!"

Rachel sucked and Janet let out a cry of triumph as the zip closed.

Rachel gasped. "I can't breathe," she croaked. "Damn it, Janet!"

Rachel froze. Making fun of Janet was verboten and references to _Rocky Horror_ more so. She was cringing inside but stood up as tall as she could, ready to take a beating. To her surprise, Janet was smiling.

"Look," Janet said, spinning Rachel around to the mirror. Rachel gasped again but this time, it wasn't for suffocation. She did look great. The dress was sheer except for the sleeves and a few, a very few strategic places in the body. Her breasts were pushed up, giving her a much bigger cleavage then she ever thought possible. Rachel twisted and saw the fall of the dress after the cinched waist gave her a protruding booty. But it was the colour that made it special. It was a deep orange and it made her look like she was on fire, like embers glowing. The colour made her hair shinier and her skin warm and inviting.

"Good thing you only have to lip-synch," Janet said, her lips twitching. Rachel nodded helplessly.

"Thank you," she croaked out as Janet started picking up pins and scissors.

"No problem," Janet said, "but remember this moment next time you want to say 'Damn it, Janet'." Janet was smiling as she left and Rachel grinned. Operation Charm could add another victory to its tally.

+...+

Finn had been late on set. It was rare for him but he'd spent the night tossing and turning, finally dozing off just before the alarm. He threw it in the corner and stayed in bed too long, drifting off again. He'd planned to have some time with Rachel so they could get comfortable with each other before shooting began but as he arrived he could hear the playback and knew that they were already filming her on stage. They'd need him soon. He was raced through make up and wardrobe in double quick time. He didn't have time to wonder why Janet was snickering. He rushed out and on to the set.

Rachel was gone and John Sullivan was in consultation with the lighting director. Finn hurried over to them, apologies at the ready.

"Finn, perfect timing," John said. "We're setting up the shots of Drumm at the table watching Elsa. We'll be ready to go in a minute. Rachel just needs a breather," he said. Finn swore he heard sniggers but when he looked up, everyone had a straight face. "So we'll film from you at the bar to the walk to the table, okay? We don't need Rachel for those."

"Yep, fine," said Finn, a little bemused that his apologies were wasted. He forgot about it moments later as he sat at the bar, becoming Drumm. The scene was short and went well right up to the announcement. It was repeated to get the reversals and John declared himself satisfied. There was a short break to reset the cameras for Finn's turn and walk to the table so he went to look for Rachel. She wasn't in her trailer and he was called back before he could search further.

"Okay, Finn, from the announcement, you turn, Drumm sees Elsa for the first time, is impressed, leaves the bar and take that seat at the front table. Then he watches the performance. Right?"

"Right," said Finn.

"Sorry we haven't got Rachel for you to play off."

"That's why it's called acting, John," Finn replied with a smile before turning back to the bar, ready for the action call. John moved back to his chair and obliged.

"Action."

The announcement was played and Finn turned around. He didn't have to play stunned. He _was_ stunned. Despite everything John had led him to believe, Rachel's Elsa walked onto the stage, taking her place at the mike. Finn had never seen Rachel like this, like some a pocket-sized Mae West inviting him to come up and see her sometime. He forgot what he was doing as he fought for breath.

"Cut!"

Finn was conscious of the laughter and shook his head. He'd choked. He'd never done it before and he was mortified. He saw John hurrying towards him.

"Finn, that was fabulous, but you need to remember to walk."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm sorry. I was just really surprised."

John was smiling. "I know I should have told you. I just wanted to get the real reaction. It was great. Keep doing it. But next time, walk." John raced back to the camera and with a nod at Finn, yelled again. "Quiet and action."

+...+

The kimono was much more comfortable. Alone in her trailer, Rachel opened it, displaying the bra and panties underneath. She checked her sides and abdomen, looking for the bruises that she knew would come. _Damn it, Janet._

There was a knock at the trailer. Rachel closed and tied the kimono before yelling, "Come in."

Finn put his head and shoulders through the door but didn't enter. "Hey, Rachel. Sorry I was late this morning. I'd wanted to have a chance to get together, you know, get comfortable."

Rachel laughed. "I don't think you were responsible for me being uncomfortable this morning. Janet hates me."

Finn chuckled. "Janet hates everybody but that was some dress. I choked when I saw you. I've never done that before. That's got to count for something, right?"

"Were you thinking 'sad clown hooker'?" Rachel laughed.

Finn had the grace to blush and mumbled "No."

"I guess it does count for something then," Rachel mused. "And sorry about making you choke although it's nice to know somebody else was suffocating too. Anyway, are you coming in or just letting in flies."

Finn pulled himself in, shutting the door behind him. He always felt outsized in trailers and Rachel's was no different. He sat quickly down on the end bench. "So, you ready for this afternoon? Anything you want to talk through?"

"No," she said slowly, not telling him about the conversation she'd already had with John. He had told her he wanted sizzling chemistry. Rachel didn't think that was going to need acting. "But there was something I wanted to ask you, something Quinn said."

Finn frowned. "She didn't spoil you, did she?"

"No, no, absolutely not. It's just that she said she found her scene yesterday hit close to home and I was wondering if that was true throughout the book."

Finn nodded, understanding. "Right, I know what she's talking about. Listen, Ben and I sort of conceived the story together so there's some of me, some of my memories in there including my break ups with Quinn. But if you're worried about, you know, if you're worried about our break up…"

Rachel held her breath.

"Don't, it's not in there, Rachel."

Rachel let out her breath slowly. "But Ben knows?"

"Yeah, he knows," Finn said, running his hand through his hair. "I was kind of a mess when I came back from New York, but however he's internalised it; it's not shown up in his writing yet that I've seen. Nobody else knows anything. I never even told Mom or Kurt the truth."

"Finn…" Rachel started. Finn didn't let her finish. He stood, taking care to avoid colliding with the ceiling and made for the door.

"Past is past, Rachel. We need to go to work."

**Drumm: Chapter Eight**

_Drumm got to the office with five minutes to spare. Alyssa and Mitch were out but Sid was still at his desk._

_"Anything?"_

_Drumm shook his head. "Not a lot. Cliff's cases are a bust. Jensen has reconciled with his wife and wants the stuff we got sent to him so he can destroy it – make sure you charge him a lot for the privilege. He can afford it. I'm heading to the Pink Leopard later tonight and I'm seeing Elizabeth tomorrow. What about you guys? Anything?"_

_"We've managed to eliminate some of the candidates off the past list and we've closed some of the ongoing cases, including Cliff's," Sid said, checking his paperwork. "Elizabeth hasn't returned my calls though. You'll need to remind her that she owes us. We haven't had much new business this week and that will be a problem in the future if it keeps up, but for now, it's given us some breathing space." He paused and glanced up at Drumm. "You missed out Cantor Corp."_

_"That was weird. She wouldn't talk to me there but she's on her way. Be here any minute. She doesn't know Theo's gone."_

_"You want me to disappear?"_

_Drumm gazed down at his feet. If he was going to see Sophie Cantor in the main office, it would be probably be better if Sid wasn't there. Drumm knew that wasn't really what Sid was asking. Drumm still hadn't used Theo's office. It was Theo's, full of him, every piece of furniture, every item, every molecule of air. It made Drumm feel like a usurper at best and a scavenger at worst to be in there. If today had proved anything, it had proved that he was not his brother. He needed to get over it. Maybe Theo would rub off on him if he did._

_"No," Drumm said firmly. "I'll use Theo's office." Sid smiled slightly and nodded his head._

_"You better get in there then."_

_Drumm marched down the hall, opened the door to Theo's office and closed it behind him to stop himself hesitating or changing his mind. He stood against the door and took a few deep breaths. _It's only an office, for Christ's sakes! _Drumm pushed himself off the door and walked to the desk. He turned the chair on its swivel a couple of times before finally sitting in it. Drumm ran his hands along the edge of the desk and closed his eyes. He stayed like that until a sharp rap at the door startled him._

_Sid opened the door. Sophie Cantor strode in imperiously, stopping in mid-stride on seeing Drumm. Her eyes narrowed._

_"What is this? I made it clear that I was coming to see Theo."_

_Drumm rose and gestured at the visitor's chair. Sophie frowned, looking from Sid to Drumm. She threw back her head to raise her chin higher and deigned to sit. _

_"Thanks, Sid," Drumm said softly. Sid left the office, shutting the door behind him._

_"I really don't appreciate-"_

_"My brother's dead."_

_Sophie was naturally pale but her face took on a ghostly pallor at the news. She recovered quickly._

_"Dead? How? When?"_

_Drumm gave her the bare details. She dropped her head a moment, taking the information in._

_"Miss Cantor, I intend to find out why my brother died and to find the man, or woman, who killed him. I'm re-investigating his cases and the people he was dealing with. That brought me to you. What was he doing for you, besides…"_

_"Besides?" she asked coolly, her eyebrows raised._

_"I knew my brother well, Miss Cantor. I saw the two of you, remember? I recognise afterglow."_

_She didn't blush or look away, continuing to gaze at him placidly. Drumm pressed on._

_"Leaving aside your relationship with my brother for a minute, tell me why you hired him?"_

_"I didn't," she said firmly. "I have no errant spouse, I'm not looking for anyone and there are no skeletons in my closet to be exposed. I had no reason to engage your brother's professional services." She made the last two words sound like dirty language._

_Drumm stared hard at her. "I don't believe you," he said._

_"That's your prerogative, Mr. Drummond. Is there anything else?"_

_"You had a personal relationship." It was an accusation._

_"We had… an arrangement. I met your brother in a bar downtown. We were attracted to each other. We both liked sex." She shrugged. "It was… convenient. It wasn't hearts and chocolates. And before you ask, I flew to Geneva on Friday night. I was there until yesterday. I didn't kill your brother."_

_Watching her pick invisible lint off her impeccable designer suit, Drumm felt his frustrations give way to his emotions. "Theo's dead! Don't you feel anything?" he all but shouted at her._

_Sophie didn't respond for a moment but Drumm caught the single tear that ran down her cheek. She wiped it away angrily._

_"Are you happy now, Mr. Drummond? Is this me feeling enough for you?" She rose. "I'm sorry for your loss, but I can't help you. Please, do not contact me again."_

_Drumm stood, reaching to his full height. "This isn't over, Miss Cantor."_

_"Yes," she replied. "It is." She walked out of the office, back to being as cold as ice. _

+...+

_Drumm sat at the bar at the Pink Leopard, knocking back Manhattans. He knew he was being stupid but the day had been one of obstacles and frustrations and he needed something to take the edge off. He'd talked to Sid after Sophie Cantor walked out, telling him that there had to be something in the active cases connected to Cantor Corp. or the Cantor family, something hidden in plain sight. It was Theo's favourite trick. Sid agreed to go back over the files to see if they'd missed anything._

_Drumm looked around, rubbing his freshly-shaved chin. At least he was finally dressed properly for the part. He'd hired the dinner suit and it fit him well. It fit him well enough that he was asked out for a drink with the sales assistant, an offer Drumm rejected, breaking the man's heart. It fit him well enough that he looked respectable. The ID Mitch prepared for him declaring him Thomas Drumm MD. did the rest._

_"So, this your first time?" _

_The voice in his ear was low and sultry. He turned and faced the pretty woman in the slinky dress. She was Asian, with long, straight black hair that fell to her waist. It was the third hostess to approach him. There'd been a blonde when he arrived and a stunning African-American girl after his second drink. He gave the new woman the same response. _

_"Maybe later, I'm waiting for a friend." _

_She pouted and floated away. Drumm would have to think up a new excuse for the red-head that was sure to follow. He'd claim to be gay if he wasn't certain that it would lead to a parade of men of different shades making the same offer. The Pink Leopard was a brothel, impure and simple. It was dressed up in swank and glitter but it was so obvious that Drumm didn't know how it continued in a city of officials spouting family values. They must have had good connections._

_He'd spotted Wilson Sallis as soon as Drumm walked in. Sallis was perched on a large padded bench as if on a throne. Drumm watched as courtier after courtier approached and paid tribute. He snorted into his drink. Where the fuck was the singer? That's who he wanted to talk to, the one Alyssa mentioned. On the information they had, she and George Armstrong, who'd got so drunk he didn't remember a thing about the night, were the last ones to talk to Theo._

_The bartender wandered near him again. This time, Drumm waved him away. He was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol and needed to stop. He wanted to talk to the singer but he knew he shouldn't forget Jack either. He'd scanned for Sally Strong but now he examined the faces more intently. _

_The lights went low and the drummer in the three-piece band on stage performed a roll. _

_"Ladies and gentlemen, our favourite songstress, the lovely, the gorgeous, Miss Elsa Cannotti."_

_Drumm turned and watched Elsa Cannotti approach the mike. She was petite and she was stunning. She was also familiar. Drumm took the pause for applause to grab his drink and walk closer to the stage, finding a spare seat on one of the front tables. The table's occupants were too wrapped up in their hostesses to object. Drumm could see that Elsa's eyes were closed as she waited to sing. The band started the intro and Drumm, expecting a standard torch song was surprised that it was "The Ballad of Lucy Jordan." Coming into the vocal, Elsa opened her eyes. She saw Drumm immediately. He held her stare, recognising the woman from the funeral and knowing she'd recognised him. Elsa missed her cue._

_Recovering quickly, she tore her gaze away as the band covered with an extended intro. She didn't miss her cue a second time._

_When it was over, Drumm joined in the enthusiastic applause. She was very, very good, best he'd heard live. He watched her intently as she performed two more traditional numbers, "Can't Help Loving 'Dat Man of Mine" and "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." She avoided his stare just as intently. Drumm saw her take her bows, finally throwing him a glance before turning on her heel and racing off the stage. Drumm stood, wanting to follow but he'd already observed that the entrance to backstage was patrolled by goons. He'd have to bide his time. He returned to the bar._

_He didn't have to wait long. A boisterous drunk began making a nuisance of himself and his buddies were joining in. They had to be escorted from the premises, claiming the attention of all the guards. Drumm slipped behind the curtain, heading for where the dressing rooms would most likely be. The first was empty. The second wasn't._

_She was sitting at a mirror, taking off make up, her eyes cast down at the dressing table as she rubbed the cream into her skin. She'd already changed, a kimono wrapped around her slim body. Drumm was quick to note the bruise being exposed on her cheek. Elsa looked up and saw him in the reflection. She froze._

_"You're good," he said, leaning against the door frame. "Better than this place."_

_"Who are you?"_

_"My name is Drumm; Thomas Drummond to those reading my epitaph."_

_"What do you want?"_

_Drumm bent his head to one side as he appraised her. He made no secret of liking what he saw. "I could just be a fan, wanting your autograph."_

_"But you're not," she said, "are you? A fan wouldn't have got back here." She was getting angry. "So, again, what do you want?"_

_"I want to know what happened between you and my brother, Theo Drummond, last Friday night."_

_"That's none of your business."_

_He was at least grateful she didn't pretend not to know who Theo was. It didn't make the answer any more palatable. "The bullet in his brain within hours of meeting you makes it my business, Miss Cannotti."_

_That the woman didn't deny she knew Theo was dead meant either that she knew Drumm had seen her at the funeral or that she didn't play games. Drumm hoped it was the latter. He wanted it to be the latter._

_Elsa's eyes dropped. "I was very sorry to learn of your brother's murder but you have to get out of here. I can't help you." Elsa turned and looked behind Drumm with concern. Drumm followed her gaze over his shoulder. There was no one. He shrugged and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him._

_"What are you doing? Leave! Now!"_

_Drumm grabbed a second stool, placed it next to her and lowered himself down onto it. "No. I need to talk to you. You are one of the last people to talk to Theo, to see Theo alive. I need to know what happened. How did you, by the way?"_

_"How did I what?" she said, her frown intensifying._

_"Learn about my brother's death. Everybody else I've talked to today were clueless."_

_"I just-" she started before pulling herself up. "Not here. Not now," she said urgently. "You have to go. My boyfriend-"_

_"The one who gave you that," he interrupted, waving a finger at the bruise. Elsa's eyes narrowed to slits. She looked at her face in the mirror._

_"That is so far away from being your business that it's in another hemisphere," she said, the words coming out like venom. She wiped the cream from her face and turned back to him. "Look, I don't have anything that can help you but if it will make you go away, I'll call you. I've got your brother's number, can I reach you there?"_

_Drumm nodded._

_"Alright, I'll call you but you have to stay away from me, particularly _here_. Now go."_

_Drumm could see she was genuinely frightened and decided to let her off the hook. He nodded again, making for the door. He opened it and checked the corridor. It was still empty. He turned back to her with a soft warning._

_"If you don't call me, I'll be here tomorrow and every night until you talk to me."_

_She stared back at him defiantly. He waved at her, put his hands in his pockets and set out along the corridor, whistling the melody of "The Ballad of Lucy Jordan." He wasn't going to admit that staying away from her might be something he didn't want to do._

+...+

_Finn scanned the street. It was quiet and there wasn't a taxi in sight. He would have to walk back to Theo's. He started off, still whistling. He hadn't stopped thinking about Elsa Cannotti. He was imagining her naked when the lights went out._


	9. Lazy Days

**The _Glee_ characters belong to _Glee_, the rest of the characters belong to me. This story is improved no end by wood-u-like-2-no's contribution as beta and soundboard. **

**Conceit: Chapter titles are song titles. Whatever happened to Robbie Williams? He went to America and disappeared. He left this on his 1997 album _Life Thru a Lens_. What? Yes, I have some Robbie Williams in my music collection. That doesn't _necessarily_ make me a sad sack. **

**+...+**

**Chapter Nine: Lazy Days**

It was early for the phone to be ringing on a Sunday morning. He was awake, the alarm having gone off, but only just. He checked the ID. He knew he'd regret giving Rachel his private number.

"Rachel, it's 6am. Don't you ever relax that schedule of yours?"

"No," she said merrily. "You know that. Anyway, this is important. Given what he did last time, I wanted to make sure."

"What? What are you talking about?" Finn levered himself out of bed, placing his feet on the floor. He desperately needed to take a piss. It made him tetchy.

"Puck, after last time I wanted to make sure you knew about this invitation."

"Huh?"

"I knew it," she cried triumphantly. "I knew it didn't come from you. Right! I'm going to give him a piece of my mind next time I see him. Have fun. Quinn and I will enjoy a quiet day at home. Bye."

She hung up. Finn dropped his arm and stared at the dead phone in his hand. He shook his head and threw it on the bed. He made the trip to the bathroom and then pondered his next move. He was really looking forward to the day off, to being himself. He really wanted to kill Puck.

+...+

Quinn was wrapped in a dressing gown, listening for the verdict as she sipped a cup of tea. It was her second Sunday at the beach house and she had to admit that living with Rachel wasn't the nightmare she'd thought it might be. The place was big enough to give them each their own space. When Rachel's exuberant chatter tired her, she could slip into her room or into the small gym or go for a walk or a swim for some peace. It certainly beat the Luxury Hills Complex and Motel. She heard Rachel's victory cry and frowned. Rachel ended the call and beamed at her.

"Okay, okay," Quinn said. "I was wrong and you were right. I was looking forward to it too. Church for me in," she glanced at her watch, "four hours but for now, I'm going back to bed."

Rachel held a finger up to her lips to shush Quinn. "He's just woken up. Give it four minutes," she said. "Double or nothing?"

Quinn laughed. "No, you're too good at this. What is Puck playing at anyway?"

Rachel raised her eyebrows. "Don't you know?"

"As far as I can make out, he's trying to play Cupid for you and Finn."

"That's not it at all," Rachel said with certainty. "That's not going to happen anyway." Rachel paused and Quinn saw a shadow pass over her face. "This isn't about me, Quinn. It's about you."

"Me! He's trying to play Cupid for _me_ and Finn?"

"No!" Rachel responded, "of course not. Puck's playing Cupid for himself, silly!" Quinn shook her head. Rachel ignored it and pressed on. "I mean, it may have started with him trying to get me and Finn back together but not this time. The two of you were flirting for flag and country at that dinner. You reconnected. I'm kind of jealous."

Quinn understood Rachel wanting to reconnect with Finn. From what she'd seen, he been restrained with Rachel; friendly, certainly, but a little distant. It was Finn on his best behaviour. Actually, it was kind of like how Finn had been with Quinn in high school when she was his girlfriend – saying and doing what was expected but never really wholly there. If anyone should be jealous, Quinn thought, it should be Quinn because she never had the closeness with Finn that Rachel had enjoyed. "Oh, wait!" she chided herself. "I was jealous."

Quinn wasn't sure if Rachel just wanted that closeness back or wanted more. Something had happened between those two in the year after graduation and Quinn had no idea what it was. At the time, she was still in regular contact with many of the old glee club and there was a flutter of tweets and IMs speculating about it. Kurt was stubbornly taciturn, confirming only that they had split up for good and gentle prods of Finn and Rachel were met with silence. Whatever it was, neither _seemed_ interested in restarting anything but as an expert in dampening down emotions, Quinn knew looks could be deceiving.

As for what Rachel was saying about Puck, it was ridiculous. Puck was and always had been nothing more than a friend. That they'd made a baby together was the unlucky result of wine coolers and ill-judgement on her part and hormones on his. They'd never been in love, they'd never really even been that close. There was nothing to reconnect beyond camaraderie. Her lonely years in Hollywood had made her eager to renew friendships. It was the same as with Finn, Santana and Rachel herself. A great cook and falling on his feet or not, Puck was still the same flirty, horny guy he'd always been. No. Suggesting that Puck was romancing her was crazy and Quinn stared at Rachel askance, wondering if she should start planning trips to the nearest real estate office to escape the asylum.

"I'm right," Rachel said, reading her face.

"No, you're not," Quinn insisted. She would have insisted again but Rachel's phone rang. She saw Rachel check the phone and grin. Quinn glanced at her watch. It had been four minutes.

+...+

"Hi, Rachel. It's me."

"Hey, Finn. Have you peed now? You sound less of an angry bear. What can I do for you?"

He closed his eyes. She knew. Of course, she knew. She knew his habits and his mind. The little minx knew he'd call her back. He was on the knife's edge between making some non-seafaring excuse for calling and bursting into laughter. The latter won out.

"Don't pretend you didn't know I'd call back. Of course it's a great idea for you and Quinn to come out on the boat with us. Do you want us to pick you up or do you want to make your way down to the marina yourselves?"

"Oh, I've already ordered the driver, so we'll see you there. Puck gave me the details. Don't forget the sun-screen! You know how you burn."

The phone went dead again. Finn threw himself back on the bed and wondered exactly which of the gods he'd offended.

+...+

_I could get used to this._

The _Old Directions_ was a 58' Cruiser Yacht, well-appointed, well-stocked and heaven. Rachel finished her fruit juice and stretched out along the length of the sun lounge. Rachel had been happy to just bask. She was in the more modest of the two sets of swimwear she'd brought, a hot pink bandeau top and bikini bottom that didn't expose all her ass cheeks. She was about to doze off and jerked herself awake. She needed to do something. Behind the sunglasses, her eyes glazed over at the constant coastline and so she turned them forward. The view that way was the back of the Captain's Chair and Finn's neck.

Finn had been at the helm since they'd set out from the marina. He'd taken them on a tour of the cherry wood permeated salon and the galley, the master suite, the stateroom and the heads before they'd set off. The large C-shaped seating area and table in the cockpit had been quickly converted to the sun lounge to allow Rachel and Quinn to sunbathe while Puck and Finn took the chairs at the helm to take the boat out. Once they were in clear water, Puck joined them on the lounge, flirting and making them laugh with dirty jokes and Hollywood anecdotes. Eventually, he and Quinn had gone below to prepare lunch. At least that's what they said they were doing. Rachel wasn't going to go down to find out.

Missing company, Rachel got up and walked to the helm, settling down on the second Captain's Chair next to Finn. He glanced over to her and then returned his attention to the emptiness ahead. "You okay?" he asked.

"I'm wonderful," Rachel said. "I feel like a well-fed cat that's laid out in front of a roaring fire. Toasty." After a silence that was long enough to become uncomfortable, Rachel asked "Where's Ben? I thought you were like the Three Musketeers, all for one and one for all. Does he get sea-sick?"

"I think the writers are on about episode seven or eight now and want to get the rest done by the time we finish filming this first block of three with John. Ben's got his nose to the grindstone," Finn said, "working 24/7, otherwise, he'd be here."

"It's usually the three of you then?"

Finn nodded. "And guests sometimes."

"You mean girls," Rachel scoffed, refusing to acknowledge the green-eyed monster stirring within.

Finn smiled before answering. "Not always. Kurt and Blaine like coming out when they're in LA and my dad loves it. But, yes, often girls."

"Who gets the sofa bed?" During the tour, Finn had shown them how the central seats in the salon turned into a bed at the touch of a button.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I assume you have the master suite, so do Puck and Ben have to fight over which of them gets the stateroom?"

Finn laughed. "It doesn't work that way. We tend to rotate fairly evenly although officially we arm-wrestle."

"That doesn't seem fair on Ben. You'd both murder him!"

"Ah, but you don't know Ben. He's tougher than he looks and he doesn't drink as much as Puck. As for me," Finn shrugged, "I cheat depending on whose turn it is. To be honest, I usually just grab a sheet and sleep on the sun lounge anyway. I like it up here."

Rachel tried to imagine a night sleeping under the stars being rocked with the sound of the water lapping gently at the sides of the boat. She could but she couldn't keep the vision of Finn lying naked under a thin sheet out of the image, so she stopped. She shivered a little. He saw it.

"Cold? I've got a sweatshirt in there you can have," Finn said, gesturing at a locker.

"No, I'm fine. Are we actually going somewhere? Somewhere specific, I mean?"

"Yeah. There's a shoal we go to up ahead. It's close enough for a day trip and big enough to be able to have a picnic, build a fire, throw a football around. It's private – too far from the beach for most to swim. Unless there's another boat there, we should be should get the place to ourselves."

He returned his attention to the instruments at the helm and Rachel relaxed in the chair. She started to doze off again and shook herself awake. She decided to run her lines in her head for tomorrow to keep from drifting. She went through them twice before glancing up at Finn, bored by the silence. "Hospital scene tomorrow," she said. "Early call."

"Earlier for me. You don't have three hours in makeup first. I hate prosthetics." Finn shuddered.

"Poor you. Doesn't matter how lucrative acting can be," she mused. "The physical stuff can be gruelling. I'd imagine that prosthetics are really uncomfortable."

"It depends. The worst part is at the beginning when they make the pieces. You have to sit for hours waiting for stuff to mould and dry. And because there were eye pieces, I couldn't read or even close my eyes. At least that part's done. I can nap while they work their magic tomorrow."

"Maybe I can come in early," Rachel offered, "keep you amused with tales of Broadway babes and Times Square tarts."

Finn chuckled and glanced down at her. "Thanks, but no thanks. Love you but I'd rather sleep."

Rachel didn't move. Finn had returned to staring out at the water. He didn't mean it, of course, not in that way. She cast him a sidelong look. His jaw had gone tight. She knew he was kicking himself. She knew he didn't want to talk about or be reminded of the past; he'd made that clear enough. She wanted to reassure him that she would respect that. The key was to lighten the mood. She rose to her knees and leaned over to kiss him breezily on the cheek.

"Love you too and think on reflection that I'd also rather sleep. All this sea air is going to put me out like a-"

"We're here." Finn said quickly, pointing ahead. Rachel looked around. She could see nothing but a stretch of blue. She pouted, the lower lip extending when she realised the Finn had cut the engines and laid anchor. She looked up at him in confusion. He pointed starboard.

"There."

Rachel was convinced she was being hazed. This was some joke they played on cruising newbies. She pushed up her sunglasses and finally saw what Finn was pointing to. It was a narrow stretch of sand, maybe a quarter of a mile long and half as wide. They seemed to be some way from it still.

"Won't the food and everything get wet?"

Finn roared with laughter. Instead of responding, he squeezed past her and ran aft. She followed and watched as he pressed a switch. The aft rumble seat opened, exposing a davit. From the locker below, he pulled out an inflatable and attached a hose, placing the inflatable on the davit. Pushing another switch, the inflatable started to swell. Once it was inflated, Finn lowered it off the swim platform into the water. Rachel was fascinated as the davit disappeared back under the rumble seat. Finn smiled as he removed his shirt, throwing it into the inflatable before returning to the cockpit.

Rachel's breath caught in her throat watching him. It surprised her. She'd seen him naked her first day on set. Seeing his bare chest shouldn't be causing the fluttering in her stomach. Perhaps she had a touch of sunstroke. _Get a grip._

"Puck! We're here!" Finn yelled down to the galley before turning back to Rachel. "We have a deal. I drive and Puck takes charge of getting everything over. You can wait and come over in the inflatable or…"

His Bermuda shorts doubling as trunks, Finn threw himself off the side of the cockpit, diving far more gracefully than her experience of his dancing skills would ever had made her believe possible. Rachel gasped at the suddenness of his disappearance. She ran over to the side and looked down. He was paddling in the water below, waiting for her.

"Race?" he called up.

It looked way too high a jump for her taste but she couldn't resist the challenge. She grabbed her bag and the cover that matched her bikini from the sun lounge and hurried to the aft swimming platform, throwing her stuff in the inflatable and jumping off the side of the platform. She swam breast-stroke to reach Finn who was grinning.

"Ready, set-"

Rachel didn't wait for the last word. She set out strongly with her best crawl and ignored the cry of "Cheater" that pursued her. She concentrated on the sandbar and swam as fast as she could, trying not to laugh and accidentally swallow the ocean. She could hear him right behind her but he didn't overtake. She arrived on the shoal first and jumped up and down with excitement. Finn followed her out of the water and bowed to her superiority. Both were panting from the effort and Finn dropped to the sand, splaying himself out as he regained his breath. Rachel sat next to him and peered at him.

"You let me win," she accused happily. Finn raised his head.

"No, I didn't."

"I know when you're lying."

Finn dropped his head back down on the sand and shrugged. "It seemed the gentlemanly thing to do."

Rachel smiled. "It was." She looked out to the boat. She could see Puck and Quinn in the cockpit, carrying a picnic basket and some coolers down to the inflatable. "You know, I never would have taken you for a sailor. Not many yachts in Ohio to spark yearnings for ocean waves."

"I wouldn't either," he said, raising himself onto one elbow. "I had absolutely no interest until I went on somebody else's. It gave me the bug. It was so peaceful, away from everything. I could afford it, so…"

"The extravagant lifestyle of the rich and famous was too much to resist."

"I suppose," he said, thinking about it. "Kelly, she does my PR, she insists that I should do more, that people want to _see_ wealth. I've got the house and I like cars, but other than the boat, that's pretty much it. No second home, no plane, no wild parties, no drugs. Most of the insane amount of money goes into property or investments or to charity. I'm pretty boring and Kelly despairs of me. She's particularly pissed that I want to keep the boat to myself, just for me and my friends. So far, she's kept the paps at bay and friends are usually good about not uploading photos in public places. It happens sometimes, but it's never a friend and it's never anyone who's been invited more than once or who knows the boat's mine and not just hired."

"Like the girls," Rachel teased.

Finn nodded. "A few," he said, "but Kelly's pretty good as quashing interest with the press and online chatter is just gossip. Just as well. Otherwise you would have had to explain to Wally what the spurned ex-lover was doing on the ex's boat." He lay back in the sand. "Hoping to keep the boat private is probably futile and one of these days, I'm sure somebody will splash it everywhere, but for now, I can still have days like this when I can wake up, get to the marina in peace avoiding the circus and come out here. I can be me."

Rachel saw that he was wistful. Rachel had prepared for stardom all her life, practicing interviews and all the PR stunts she could think of since she was three. Finn had never done that. He discovered in high school that he loved to perform but only when he was on a stage. He would never have imagined having to perform his actual life all the time. "At least," Rachel thought, "that's what I think he's feeling."

Rachel lay down on the sand and closed her eyes. It was funny though. He could probably perform all the time if he wanted to. He'd turned into a great actor. He might even be able to fool her these days. She realised with a sense of loss that while she could predict a lot about him, she could no longer read his mind the way she used to. Impressing Quinn had been a magic trick. She knew his habits. She had to admit to herself though that she couldn't be sure what he was thinking. A shiver ran through her and she was happy to be prevented from further vaguely depressing contemplation by the arrival of the inflatable.

**Drumm: Chapter Nine**

_"Ow. Ooww."_

_It occurred to Drumm in a corner of his mind that wasn't screaming that if those were his last words, they were really lame. He'd always imagined he'd refer to one of his heroes, maybe say "fucking off now" for Keith Moon or "I'm going back to Gene Krupa's Syncopated Style." Not "Ow."_

_Drumm forced his eyes open. It hurt and one refused to co-operate at all. The other went up a little way before being blocked by a huge lump of flesh that must have belonged to someone else except it was still there when he turned his head. The pain didn't disappear either. It intensified._

_"Sleeping Ugly awakes."_

_The voice was familiar. Drumm grit his teeth to turn his head back towards it. His limited vision was blurry but there was no mistaking the hunched figure of Sid Delaney._

_"Hey, Sid." Drumm heard himself lisp. _What the hell?

_"Hey, Drumm. Welcome back to the land of the living. You gave us all a real scare, you know?"_

_Drumm tried to sit up. Pain shot through his torso like a dozen knives plunging into his sides, singing with mezzo-soprano wails of "Et tu, Brute." He thought better of both the image and the effort and lay back. "What's the damage?"_

_Sid held out a fist. He couldn't count off on his fingers so he used his knuckles. "Severe concussion, one broken tooth, two broken fingers, three cracked ribs."_

_Drumm was agitated. "Fingers!" That was going to make playing tricky. He held up his right hand. Sure enough, the middle and ring fingers were splinted together. "Shit!" He dropped his hand, making the tube leading to the needle in his arm wiggle. "How long?"_

_"You've been out two days although the doc assures me a lot of that was just sleep rather than coma. One hell of a way to get a lie in, Drumm. Your mumblings have been entertaining at least."_

_"My mumblings," Drumm said, frowning, or at least the pain indicated his face was trying to do something. "What mumblings?"_

_"Something about Venus in flames and tits of glory. Those were some dreams you were having."_

_Drumm, trying to remember what led him here and failing, suddenly got the image of a beautiful girl with long, dark hair dressed in fire. With it, everything came rushing back. Oh, yeah, now he remembered._

_"I must have been jumped outside the Pink Leopard," Drumm said. "They must have knocked me out first because I don't remember getting beaten. Bastards! At least they could have let me swing one punch."_

_"Yeah," said Sid, his face serious. "That would have made all the difference."_

_Drumm would have stuck his tongue out at the sarcasm but it felt too big to get past his lips. Instead, he marshalled the little strength he had to try and sit up again. He wanted out of this hospital bed. He managed to lift his body two inches off the pillow before consciousness threatened to desert him._

_"You're not going anywhere, Drumm. Doc says two more days here minimum. Your head's so big and your brain's so small, it rattled around in there like a bingo ball. They need to be sure you're not brain-damaged. I tried to tell them that any sign of that was probably there from birth, but you know doctors. Have to justify those fees."_

_"I'm fine," Drumm said through clenched teeth, every muscle in his body yelling at him to lie still and shut up._

_Sid shook his head. "Well, maybe the doctor's aren't wrong if you're being this stupid. It's pointless telling you what I found out about Cantor Corp. now. It'll wait until you're brain grows back."_

_"Sid!"_

_"Seriously, it can wait. We're on it. I'll just say that you were on to something when you said Theo hid stuff in plain sight. Now, as for this," Sid said, gesturing at Drumm's body, "I reckon you either stumbled over something important or somebody didn't like your face. What happened in the Pink Leopard?"_

_"Not a lot. No sign of Sally. I got backstage and talked to the singer," he added, smiling. "She's kinda something but she had nothing."_

_"The singer? Elsa Cannotti. That explains a lot."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"While you've been dreaming of her here, we've been checking into your little nightingale. She's Wilson Sallis's girl."_

_"They're married?" Drumm hated that idea. _

_Sid shook his head. "No, but that wouldn't matter to him. He figures her for his property. If you were messing with her, then I can see this being the result." Drumm felt like a naughty child being lectured. "Although," he added thoughtfully, "if it is, he's mellowed."_

_"Mellowed! Look at me!"_

_"You're still alive, aren't you?"_

_"Barely," said Drumm. He was getting very tired. "Sid, I don't think Theo messed with her but he talked to Elsa. Do you think Sallis…" Drumm was finding it harder to concentrate._

_"I don't know, kid," Sid said softly, watching Drumm struggle to evade sleep. "I'm working on it."_

+...+

_"You're not Sid."_

_"Not the last time I checked."_

_Drumm had woken up, feeling a lot more like himself. The figure in the chair by his bed had surprised him._

_"Miss Cannotti, you have a really weird way of knowing what's going on. How did you know I was here?"_

_Elsa shrugged. "I hear things. Besides, you didn't show up at the club again when I neglected to call. I didn't take you for a quitter so I was curious."_

_Drumm smiled even though it felt strange in a face not his own. "You'd be a pretty good detective."_

_"Yeah," she pondered, staring at him steadily. "I think I might be better at it than you."_

_"I may not be a good detective but I'm still pretty," he said, the smile expanding to a grin. The effect on his bruised and swollen face was to make him look like a demented gargoyle. The corners of Elsa's lips twitched. He watched her fight it, satisfied he'd gotten a reaction. _Damn, she's hot.

_"I told you to leave; you should have listened. You might still be pretty if you had."_

_Drumm would have beamed at her acknowledgement of his good looks if it wasn't beyond the capacities of his swollen cheeks to stretch. "So, this was your boyfriend, eh?" Drumm gestured at his face with his broken fingers. Elsa made no response but didn't drop her eyes. "You know that for sure, don't you? Prepared to testify?"_

_"Not a chance," she replied coolly. "It wouldn't do any good anyway. It's hearsay, literally something I overheard. Besides, why should I? If you're dumb enough to go blundering in where you're not wanted, who am I to prevent you learning life lessons?"_

_"That's harsh. Damsels in distress get sympathy. You're kind of sexist, you know."_

_"Damn fools in distress deserve none. You're kind of an idiot, you know."_

_Drumm garnered himself again and this time managed to raise himself up a little higher on the pillows. He hoped he didn't imagine the look of concern flitting across her face as he did so but he also noted that she didn't offer to help._

_"So why are you here? Is candy striper in your repertoire? If so I want my money back for you stinting on the uniform." Drumm couldn't help seeing Elsa in pink and white stripes and a very short skirt. Elsa frowned and he kicked his transparency._

_"Porn outfits not required. You wanted to talk. I can end it whenever I want to without you chasing after me. Seemed the perfect opportunity." She gazed at him levelly. "So, talk."_

_Drumm stared back, taking in the jeans and light sweater. She looked younger, more vulnerable than when he'd last seen her. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail and the makeup was imperceptible. If possible, it made her more beautiful. He caught himself, veering away from thoughts that were getting in the way. He reminded himself that this woman was probably the reason he wouldn't be playing with Pandemic for a few weeks whether he had the time or not, and that she may have had a hand in his brother's murder. His eyes narrowed. "What happened with you and my brother?"_

_"Not much," she said. "He told me he was looking for a girl named Sally Strong who'd run away from home when she was fourteen, ten years ago. He said her brother had seen her at the club and that he wanted to give the family peace. Your brother slipped me his card and asked me to call him if I had any information. He then told me to slap him. That's it."_

_"Did you?"_

_"Slap him? Yes. Have information about Sally Strong?" She shook her head in response to Drumm's nod. "Not really. There was a girl named Sally at the club for a while, but her last name wasn't Strong, it was Prior, Sally Prior. I haven't seen her in about a month, I think. She was one of the hostesses."_

_"One of the hookers, you mean," Drumm said dryly._

_Elsa didn't blink. "One of the _hostesses_. It's their choice whether they sleep with the guests or not."_

_"Sure it is," Drumm replied. "Why do you work there? Are you a-"_

_"No, Mr. Drummond," she interrupted angrily. "I'm neither a hooker nor a hostess and now you've delved into my private life again, I think it's time I should go."_

_"Wait!" Drumm said desperately as she rose to leave. He levered himself forward onto one elbow, the strain causing him to start sweating. Elsa looked back at him. "I'm sorry. I need to know more, about Theo."_

_She remained standing, making it clear to him that she would walk away as soon as he went over the line she had drawn._

_"You talked to my brother in the club, right, in plain sight?"_

_"Yes." Elsa furrowed her brow. "I'm not the only one who finds things out."_

_"You were seen. My question is did Sallis see you? Did he see Theo give you his card?"_

_Elsa took the time to think about this. "Wilson saw us talk, yes. I reckoned that was why Theo asked me to slap him but I don't think he saw your brother give me his card. I was standing right there and I didn't see him do it; I only felt it in my hand. He was very smooth, your brother."_

_"Yeah, he got that trying to entertain me in my tween years. Would-" Drumm paused. He was going back into dangerous territory. "Would Sallis have reacted badly to seeing you slap a guy, like want to punch the guy's lights out or put a bullet in his brain." He saw her eye the door. "Look, I'm sorry, but it's relevant."_

_Elsa turned back to him. "I honestly don't know. I don't think so." She hung her head for a moment. "Mr. Drummond-"_

_"Drumm, for God's sake. You're seeing me at my worst. You've called me a fool. Don't make me feel ancient too."_

_"That's a stupid nickname. It suits you."_

_"So funny. _Saturday Night Live_ needs new people. You should audition."_

_"One day. Okay, Drumm," she conceded, "I don't know if Wilson had anything to do with your brother's death. He's certainly capable of it and looking at you…" She tailed off and shrugged. "But you got past the goons, you snuck backstage. He didn't see that nothing happened. With your brother, it was all out in the open. Guys have propositioned me before and Wilson's never had them murdered as far as I know."_

_"Elsa, did you tell Sallis that Theo was looking for Sally?" _

_"No," she responded immediately. "Of course not. Not everything's his business."_

_Drumm wanted to ask her more about Sally Prior but before he could a nurse came in, wanting to check his vitals. Drumm was helpless as the nurse ushered Elsa out. Elsa turned at the door._

_"Get well, Drumm. Don't come back to the club." She turned and walked away. Drumm shouted after her despite the clear disapproval of the nurse._

_"I'm not promising anything!"_


	10. Don't Need the Sunshine

**The _Glee_ characters belong to _Glee_, the rest of the characters belong to me. This story is improved no end by wood-u-like-2-no's contribution as beta and soundboard. Sorry for being so long to put this up. The hope is to publish two chapters a week. **

**Conceit: Chapter titles are song titles. I adore the Welsh lilting, three-pack-a-day voice of Cerys Matthews. This track is off Catatonia's album, _International Velvet_.**

**+...+**

**Chapter Ten: Don't Need the Sunshine**

It should have been earlier but they headed back at dusk so there was less sunbathing and more laughing and drinking. The sun lounge was folded away and returned to the C-bench and table. Puck had stopped drinking on the shoal as he was supposed to be the driver for getting back to LA but Finn, who'd deliberately rationed his drinks to stay in control, took pity on him and told Puck he'd drive instead. Rachel and Puck were getting merrier and merrier behind him, Quinn being the only one to take it easy. She and Finn had an early call in the morning and it was already late given that the trip back would be two hours followed by the two-hour drive from San Diego to LA. Four hours and some, Finn thought with a grimace. When he was still the driver, Puck had magnanimously offered to take Quinn and Rachel home and Rachel had called ahead to cancel the chauffeur she'd arranged.

Despite knowing he was going to pay for the lack of sleep tomorrow, Finn had enjoyed the day out. He found it easier than he expected to relax with Rachel. He hadn't forgotten a moment of their past but it came as a shock to realise how much he'd missed the fun and playful side of her. He checked his instruments as he chuckled at the banter going on behind him.

"You so did not win that one," Rachel yelled. "Schu just couldn't tell you. He always made the mash-ups ties. It was sweet to spare your feelings but very wrong."

"She's right, Puck," Quinn agreed. "Our Bon Jovi/Rolling Stones beat your Supremes/En Vogue hands down."

"That's bullshit," Puck protested. "You guys may have been hot in that leather but our suits sparkled. And we made the Beiste cry," he added proudly.

"That was relief when you stopped," Quinn said with a sly smile. Rachel found that hilarious and blessed them all with the rich, deep laugh that Finn had always put in his top ten reasons of why he had loved Rachel Berry. He glanced at them over his shoulder.

"Wait, wait," Rachel said, gasping for breath. "He needs proof!" Rachel grabbed Quinn's arm, got control of her breathing and starting to sing _Livin' on a Prayer_.

_Tommy used to work on the docks_

_Union's been on strike, he's down on his luck_

_It's tough, so tough_

Puck yowled, putting his hands on his ears. He shot up from the bench and ran down the stairs. Rachel stopped.

"Where's he gone? Finn, Puck's gone! Loser overboard!" She collapsed into fits of giggles.

Finn shook his head and raised his eyebrows at Quinn. She responded in kind with a grin on her face. Puck reappeared with his guitar. _Oh no!_ Rachel squealed and clapped.

"Come on, Finn. Our manhood's are at stake."

"My manhood is perfectly happy where it is, thanks," Finn said, grinning. "But you carry on." Puck gave him the finger and Rachel stuck out her tongue at him.

"Quitter!" she declared imperiously. "Puck and I will show you how it's done. What's that song we did, Puck?"

"You mean when you used me to make Finn jealous?"

Rachel pouted and waved it off dismissively. "It was nice. What was it? That Lady Antebellum song? 'Need You Now'?"

Puck sat down and started picking out the melody.

"That's it." Rachel started singing again.

_Picture perfect memories scattered all around the floor_

_Reachin' for the phone 'cause I can't fight it anymore_

_And I wonder if I ever cross your mind_

_For me it happens all the time_

There was some mix-up with the lyrics but all in all, it was a successful performance, even though the lyrics were a little to close to home for Finn to enjoy it. He noted wryly that Rachel didn't seem to have any problem with it. He applauded with Quinn when they finished. "Nice," Finn said, "but how about something a little more upbeat?"

"Only if you join in," Rachel shouted back at him.

"Rachel, I haven't sung in years. Doubt I can anymore."

Rachel glared at him and started to sing _Pretending_.

_Face to face and heart to heart, we're so close yet so far apart_

"Noooooo! Not that!" Finn had written it and it made him cringe.

She was staring back at him, looking like a smug cat.

"All right, all right! You win." He thought for a moment before smiling.

_Give me a second I need to get my story straight_

_My friends are in the bathroom getting higher than the Empire State  
My lover she's waiting for me just across the bar  
My seat's been taken by some sunglasses asking 'bout a cigar, and_

Taking Rachel's opening verse of _We Are Young_ gave him a little thrill of vengeance and set the tone for the rest of the impromptu concert, them swapping roles around in songs they had sung together in New Directions. The highlight was Rachel and Quinn trying to persuade Finn and Puck to go all the way by the dashboard lights.

Finn and Puck both drew the line at _Run Joey Run_.

+...+

There was still an hour to go when the sunshine, the fresh air, the activity of the day and her fairly low tolerance for alcohol caught up with Rachel. She disappeared below. Quinn went down to check on her and informed the hosts that she was fast asleep on the master bed. The rest of the journey passed more sedately. Finn didn't strain to catch any of the quiet conversation between Puck and Quinn although he heard references to Beth, their daughter being raised by Shelby Corcoran. San Diego finally made its appearance and Finn docked her with well-practiced competence. He left the other two to gather their stuff together while he went to get Rachel, figuring he'd have to carry her to the car.

Rachel was sprawled across the bed, her wrap gathered at her hips, exposing her bikini bottoms. Finn tried not to stare but couldn't help himself. She was still so beautiful. In repose, her face took on an extra softness that made his heart melt. He balled his hand into a fist and scolded himself. _Get a grip, Hudson!._

As he bent down to pick her up, Rachel's eyes opened and she stared into his. Surprised, Finn didn't move and Rachel, as if the last eleven years hadn't happened, reached her hand up lazily to the back of his head and drew herself up to his lips. Finn's mouth opened automatically and he felt the tickle of her tongue on his. It catapulted him out of his nostalgia. He bolted upright and watched her fall back down onto the bed. She wasn't concerned; she just continued to stare up at him.

"The day you stopped loving me was the worse day of my life you know," she said serenely, like she was talking to a child. She rolled over onto her side and drifted back off to sleep.

Finn didn't move for a full two minutes. He couldn't. He felt a tear trickle down his cheek and couldn't even raise a hand to flick it away. He let it dry there as he took deep breaths, trying to calm the turbulence that threatened to overpower him. This was the conversation she seemed to want to have and the conversation he was desperate to avoid. It would achieve nothing as nothing had changed. They had to work together. What was the point in indulging in more heartache, more recriminations, and more agony?

The paralysis in his limbs finally faded away and Finn gathered her up in his arms to carry her to the car. She didn't stir. As he walked up the stairs with her, he knew that though she was wrong to be dredging up the past, she was right about one thing. He whispered in her ear, "Mine too."

+...+

Finn was on set waiting to shoot. It had been a long, frustrating day. He and Quinn had been there all day but because the crew was having trouble getting the lighting right and John wanted to get it perfect, the actors had suffered more than the usual amount of time hanging around, doing nothing, unable to be released as they could be needed at any given second. They started the day grateful that it was slow. It gave them a chance to recover some of their lost sleep with catnaps but now Finn was bored. He joined Quinn at an outside table, grabbing the Starbucks coffee that one of the assistants had run out to buy to keep them sweet. Finn sat down with a sigh. It was getting dark. Quinn was texting and Finn pulled out his phone to see if he could find anything interesting to read. Five minutes later, he wished he hadn't.

_Princess Waldorf PrinceWaldorf _

_Finn and Rachel all at sea? No! Finchel is on bitches!_ /QP8kzK

_View Photo_

_Broadway Babygirl serenanot_

_ PrinceWaldorf bullshit! she's way too good for that jerk LOL deluded Hudson fans. Come back to NY, Rachel!_

_WeLUVFinn weluvfinn_

_ PrinceWaldorf serenanot at least Finn didn't scam people out of their money. Run Finn!_

_Mrs. Cumberbatch fingersofreason_

_ PrinceWaldorf WTF? How about some real news you muthafucka?_

The replies went on and on and on. As Finn read he felt an ember of rage in his gut. He didn't care about any of the replies. He was used to the thousand paper cuts effect of being the subject of public opinion. It was the first one, with the link to an article and picture that had him quivering. In truth, he'd only read down through some of the responses to prepare himself to check the link. _How the hell did anyone know about the boat trip?_ With his teeth clenched, Finn clicked to view the photo.

It was blurry, the long lens being not quite long enough, but not so distorted that they were unrecognizable. From the angle, it couldn't have been taken from the shore. It was three-quarters to being head on and it caught the moment Rachel kissed his cheek. The camera person must have been out on another boat, maybe on the horizon, but there had been a lot of boats out that day. _Shit!_

He clicked on the link to the article. Princess Waldorf was one of those obnoxious internet personalities who claimed to know everyone in and everything about Hollywood. Finn was a regular feature on the site and, except for the ones Kelly had planted, the stories proved the Princess's claims grossly exaggerated. The man was gossipmonger turned hack and Finn rarely deigned to give his site hits, even when Kelly wanted him to. He started to read the short piece. It was the usual garbage.

_**Finn and Rachel All at Sea?**_

_Having hooked her part on the new HBO show _Drumm_ with the help of some well-placed publicity, is Broadway babe Rachel Berry, still under investigation for her part in the Bradley Jackson scandal, hoping to land another big fish? She's all hands with her ex-fiancé who seems to be back in her wheelhouse despite abandoning ship years ago and leaving her at the altar. Enjoying a private tête-à-tête on Hudson's yacht, the _Old Directions_, Rachel's looking trim and shipshape as she anchors her lips on the captain. Has Hudson relented and let her onboard as his first mate? What about the other ex? There had been __scuttlebutt about Hudson and Quinn Fabray__. Has Rachel forced Quinn to walk the plank? Stay tuned for more news of the pirates from the _Drumm_ set. _

Finn closed his eyes. Damn it, he thought, not just the boat, but her name. He'd always known it would come out one day but he'd hoped for a bit more time before he'd have to start ducking the press every time he wanted to go out on her.

"Are you okay?"

Finn opened his eyes. Quinn was staring at him with concern. He silently handed her his phone and waited as she glanced at it. She handed it back.

"I've seen it. Rachel's been texting all day me about it. She said that you were trying to keep the boat out of the public eye. I'm sorry."

"I knew it was coming." He sighed again. "I'll have to find a new berth and rechristen her. Any ideas?"

"Fuck the Princess?"

Finn laughed. "Much as I'd like to, I don't think that would work." He thought for a moment. "I could go for Drizzle. Remember that?"

Quinn widened her eyes. "I do remember. Suits a boat better than a baby, I think."

"Yeah," Finn replied, nodding. "Yeah, it probably would."

They fell to silence, sipping their coffees as the twilight gave way to night. Finn would have wondered if he should have reminded Quinn of the baby that she'd given up so long ago if he hadn't heard her and Puck talk about Beth. Quinn was thoughtful though, so maybe it was a bad idea. He sighed again. It's not like he wanted to think about babies either and he didn't know what made him say it. Actually, he did know. The baby Quinn was carrying was the first thing that wasn't an inanimate object that he'd ever named. In improvisations and acting workshops, whenever he had to come up with a name for a character, "Drizzle" was the first name that came to mind, every time. Every time, he dismissed it because it was a stupid name for anything except fine rain but he must still be fond of it. Maybe it was time to finally use it. He looked back down at the fuzzy picture.

"How did they get it?" Finn complained. "That's what I don't get. Puck and I didn't even decide to take her out until Saturday afternoon and yet somebody knew to take a really long lens camera and be in the right place at the right time. Was it just bad luck or, or, I don't know, maybe somebody said something?"

"Well, I didn't," Quinn said firmly. "I know that much. I didn't even know about it until Rachel told me on Saturday night that Puck had called."

"Do you think," Finn started before stopping. Part of him didn't want to ask and it battled with the parts of him that were angry and curious. "Do you think Rachel…?"

"I don't know," Quinn replied slowly, "but I doubt it seeing as she's the one being slammed."

"What?" Finn was surprised. He'd been so pissed off about the boat being named he hadn't really taken in the rest of the content. He checked his phone again, re-reading the piece. Quinn was right.

**Drumm: Chapter Ten**

_Pitch black suited him. Drumm had spent hours wearing it in the last week. Alyssa had insisted he would frighten children if he walked the streets in daylight so he only went out after sundown. To give himself something useful to do, Drumm had taken responsibility for night surveillance on the cheating husbands and cheating wives Cliff continued to supply. It was tedious work. His patience at being so mundanely engaged when his brother's killer was still out there had quickly reached saturation. After an incident in the dentist's waiting room, when he'd felt so tempted to throw a screaming child out of the window that he'd had to step out and wait in the corridor, he knew he had to do something for the sake of public safety and his sanity. That was how he justified to himself brushing the dust off the old tools and breaking into Sophie Cantor's apartment. It was ridiculously easy and scarily thrilling, he thought, as he waited in the dark for her to come home._

_Drumm took a deep breath. It brought tears to his eyes. He was being masochistic, he knew that. It hurt just breathing although less than it had. He needed to take deep breaths for it to be agony and he persuaded himself that each day, if he pushed it more and more, he could graduate soon to a cough. He gave serious thought to trying one until it occurred to him that burglars stayed quiet for a reason. It nearly made him chuckle but he wasn't ready for that much pain._

_A break in the clouds gave him enough moonlight to check his watch. It was after midnight. He'd been sitting in the same plush armchair for three hours. Sophie rarely arrived home before nine on week nights according to Sid. She was later than usual tonight and Drumm wondered if she'd found another sap for convenient sex to replace his brother. Further consideration of the matter was halted when Drumm heard a key turn in the door to the apartment._

_Sophie Cantor closed the door behind her and engaged the two bolts that secured her from the outside world. Drumm, his eyes well accustomed to the dark, braced himself for the expected glare of lights turned on by closing his eyes. It was an unnecessary precaution. Drumm heard a soft sound and opened his eyes. Sophie Cantor was leaning back against the door, weeping in the dark._

_Drumm resisted the temptation to reveal himself or to offer comfort, reminding himself of the bitch she'd been about helping him. Besides, he thought, anything that softened up the ice queen before he tackled her had to be good, right? He was being a jerk, he knew, but she was hiding something and he was determined to find out what it was tonight. There was a time when the easy ability to quash his compassion – at least when lucid – would have bothered him. That it didn't bother him now was something he chose to ignore._

_Sophie finally calmed down and pushed herself off the door. She still didn't turn any lights on, moving confidently to the kitchen off the lounge. Drumm watched her open the refrigerator door. Perfect, he thought as his eyes got a gentle introduction to light and began to adjust. Sophie pulled out an open bottle of white wine and poured herself a large glass. She grabbed the glass and downed half its contents before returning the bottle to the refrigerator and closing the door. She walked out of the kitchen and across the lounge, heading for a door behind Drumm. It was game time._

_"Theo found Jason Montana."_

+...+

_"Trudy, weren't you friends with Sally Prior?"_

_Trudy Carmichael had a hot date with a rich man. She was rummaging through Elsa's wardrobe, looking for the perfect gown. Elsa knew that she wouldn't be in it long but the better the look, the larger the tip. Trudy looked over her shoulder at Elsa who was already dressed for her performance. Trudy narrowed her eyes, pondering whether that was the one. _

_"You can't have this one. I'm on in five minutes and don't have time to change." Elsa returned her attention to the mirror, putting the final touches to her make up. She watched Trudy return to her search through the mirror. She coughed to remind Trudy of the question._

_"What?" Trudy looked back at her, irritated. "Oh, Sally, yeah, we were friends. Funny little thing."_

_"What happened to her?"_

_"Hmmm?" _

_Elsa fought back the impulse to throttle her. Trudy was a taker, one of those people for whom the world existed for their sole benefit. She and Elsa had never been friends but Elsa had always gone to great lengths to be affable with the other girls at the Pink Leopard. Her job as singer and her status as Wilson Sallis's girlfriend would have isolated her from them completely if she didn't make the effort. She didn't consider herself superior to them in any way, quite the contrary. They were all whores together, after all, even if she wouldn't let somebody like Drumm say it. _

_Elsa dropped the brush she was using on one cheek and rose from the dressing table. She joined Trudy at the wardrobe, reached in and pulled out the orange dress. "Here," Elsa said. "This will be perfect."_

_Trudy clapped and danced on the balls of her feet before grabbing the hanger on which the dress was draped and holding it to her stomach possessively. Elsa raised her eyebrows and stared at Trudy, wanting an answer._

_"Sally quit," Trudy said dismissively._

_"She told you she quit?"_

_Trudy stared up at the ceiling for a moment. Elsa could see the effort it took for her to dig beneath the shallow in her brain but knew better than to mock her openly for it. Trudy had aspired to attract Sallis and had resented Elsa from the moment they met. She was the only one that Elsa had to keep happy with actual bribes, such as giving Trudy free reign over her stage wardrobe. Three torn garments and stains the origin of which Elsa refused to speculate before sending them to be cleaned was a cheap price to pay to temper Trudy's natural instinct to stab Elsa in the back given half a chance. _

_"No," Trudy eventually said. "I mean, she stopped coming one day so I guessed she quit. Have you got shoes to match?"_

+...+

_Drumm heard the soft thud as the glass hit the carpet. He switched on the lamp on the table beside the armchair. Sophie Canton was staring at him in shock though whether it was from his presence or his words, he wasn't sure; both probably. He looked down at the glass. It was unbroken but the wine was seeping into the cream Berber. Sophie looked down at her feet but didn't move. Drumm knew it was a good sign that she hadn't run straight for the phone and calculated that if he played down the threat of his presence, she might, eventually, co-operate. He rose from the chair and walked to the kitchen, grabbing a cloth from the sink and returning to the lounge. He mopped up what he could before addressing her again. "I told you this wasn't over. You refused to return my calls, so here I am."_

_Sophie glared at him. She seized the wet cloth from his hand, picked up the glass and returned both to the kitchen. She got out two clean glasses and poured the rest of the wine into them. Finn hadn't expected the hospitality and marvelled at how, save for her initial shock, she didn't faze easily. She handed one glass to Drumm and took a seat on the couch. Drumm sat back down on the armchair. _

_"Tell me why I shouldn't call the police right now and have you thrown in jail."_

_"You want to know what I know and you cared about Theo."_

_"Wrong," she said, setting down her glass, the scorn dripping. She rose and walked towards the phone. Drumm, hoping he wasn't overplaying his hand, threw in an ace._

_"Your company is going public and can't afford scandal. Montana, who until two months ago was your chief researcher, has gone underground. I'm pretty sure somebody somewhere will be interested in what he has to say."_

_Sophie's hand paused over the phone. She gazed back at him and nodded, returning to the couch. "Okay," she said coldly, "what do you know?"_

_"No, you first," replied Drumm, leaning back into the armchair. _

_Sophie took her time before responded. "It has nothing to do with the company except that you are right about avoiding scandal. I asked your brother to find Jason Montana because he is – he was – my fiancé. After our engagement ended, he argued with my father. I haven't seen or heard from him since." She paused and took a slug of her wine. "I couldn't report him missing without involving my father. I just wanted to know that he was all right. That's it."_

_"What did you think your father had done? Kill him? Kidnap him? Is he in the habit of making your lovers disappear?"_

_"Of course not!" Sophie was quivering with anger. "My father would never do anything to hurt anyone." She took a deep breath. "The truth is that I was concerned that Jason had hurt himself."_

_Drumm wasn't sure it added up. If she had a fiancé that she cared about, what was she doing fucking Theo? What was he doing? Drumm narrowed his eyes at her. "So why couldn't you tell me this last week?"_

_"I don't know you, Mr. Drummond. I had no reason to trust you or to disclose my personal business to you. Theo assured me that he would use the utmost discretion. I love my father and I will let nothing hurt him. The company has been in my family for sixty years and I'm proud to be a part of it. I won't jeopardize it either. I just asked Theo to find out if Jason was all right. Theo did as I asked. He told me the last time I saw him and showed me a picture. It was over." _

_"This picture?" Drumm asked, pulling out a photograph from the file he'd slid down the side of the chair. He leaned forward to pass it to her despite shards of sharp pain that speared his chest._

_Sophie took the picture. It showed a handsome man, around 45, with salt and pepper hair. He was casually dressed in grey corduroys and a yellow sweater over a grey shirt. The photo caught him as he was passing a newspaper stand and the headlines – about the rocket explosion in Russia – established the date as within two days of Theo telling Sophie. She gazed at it a moment and Drumm thought he detected moisture glisten in her eyes. When she looked up and passed it back to him, any hint of tears was gone. "That's him," she said firmly, "fine and dandy and no longer of any concern to me. It was never any concern of yours."_

_"Oh, but it is, Miss Cantor," Drumm said softly as he pulled out the file and added the picture back into it. "My brother died for a reason. Maybe Jason Montana didn't want to be found. Maybe your father didn't like Theo digging around Cantor Corp or into the fates of your ex-lovers. Maybe Theo saw something he shouldn't. You should have been straight with me. As it is, I have no choice but to check it out myself." Drumm drained his glass and rose to his feet, using all his energy to make it look smooth. Sophie didn't move and Drumm moved to the door._

_"That would be a mistake," she called out as he reached the door and slid the bolts. "Whatever got Theo killed, it had nothing to so with Jason or Cantor Corp. If you do anything that drags me or mine into the mud, know this. I will personally see that you pay for it with everything you have."_

_Drumm didn't look back. _

+...+

_"I have to go home. I'm going to be sick and the stuffy air in my dressing room is making it worse. If I throw up, my vocal chords will be shot for the night." _

_Tony stared down at Elsa unhappily. She was looking pale and her breathing was shallow and quick. She was relying on him not knowing that she was faking it, although she was nervous, or that she was talking crap about the effect of vomit on her ability to sing. Tony was usually easy to play and a night when Sallis wasn't in the Pink Leopard was just the time to do it. Tony was left in charge and Sallis would be disgruntled if Elsa didn't perform. The solution was obvious but Tony was being frightfully slow in working it out. Elsa had to get more direct._

_"If only there was somewhere I could sit and recover," she said, risking a sidelong glance. "Or maybe, if I could go outside for a while, take a walk."_

_"No," Tony said firmly. "We're too busy. I can't spare anyone to go with you." Elsa gave Tony the full benefit of her best puppy eyes and he sighed. "Come on," he growled, taking her arm._

_Elsa let herself be led to Sallis's office. They paused briefly for Tony to tell one of the goons where he'd be. Tony unlocked the door and ushered her inside. Wilson's office was large and airy. It was furnished with a beautiful oak wood desk that had been imported from some fancy European castle and took pride of place. There was a seating area along one wall, with a leather couch and a couple of armchairs, and a bench along the other upon which was a small screen, and some filing cabinets at the end continuing to the wall. Behind the desk, there was a door to the outside, one locked and used only by Sallis. Because there were no windows, the room was temperature controlled and was kept fresh and comfortable. Elsa made straight for the couch, lying across her and bringing her arm to rest against her brow, shading her eyes. Tony, as she knew he would, took the office chair at the bench and turned on the screen. _

_"Fuck!"_

_Elsa watched as Tony banged on the screen. Nothing was coming up. He'd expected to connect to the camera in the club so he could keep an eye on events while continuing to babysit Elsa. The camera was controlled from the same panel that did the stage lighting and Elsa had sabotaged it before in a way that seemed accidental. It was a risk to do it again and, for the third time that night, she wondered why the hell she was doing it. She owed Drumm nothing. The image of his beaten face and body popped into her head yet again. It kept appearing and she wanted to do something to make it stop. It was distracting. If she got something on Sally, she could pass it on and not think about him anymore. _Right?_ She deepened her breathing, feigning sleep as she watched the futile attempts of Sallis's gorilla to get the screen to work. Finally, he stopped, his face contorted with frustration. Tony glanced over at her. Elsa considered adding a snore but decided that was too much, even for Tony. Tony switched his gaze between her and the door back into the club. After what seemed a lifetime to Elsa, he rose and quietly exited._

_She had to be quick. As soon as the door closed, Elsa was on her feet. She raced over to the filing cabinets. She was already familiar with the contents and went straight to the one that held employee records. Sally Prior's file was there. She pulled it out, scanning it quickly. Her heart stopped at hearing the sound of a key in the door. Worse, it wasn't Tony coming from the club. It was the outer door. Sallis!_


	11. Something's Coming

**The _Glee_ characters belong to _Glee_, the rest of the characters belong to me. This story is improved no end by wood-u-like-2-no's contribution as beta and soundboard. **

**Conceit: Chapter titles are song titles. From _West Side Story_ as we all should know. Blaine/Darren's version, Richard Beymer's, Jose Carreras's, the stud performing it in my high school's version, whoever rocks your boat.**

**+...+**

**Chapter Eleven: Something's Coming**

"I'm fine, Dad, honestly." Rachel had been on the phone with first Hiram and then LeRoy for over an hour.

They had called her as soon as they read the gossip piece, wanting to know what was going on. She didn't blame them. When she'd taken the part, they had been so confused it had taken her two days to persuade them she was doing the right thing. She had forbidden them from talking about Finn for so long they couldn't understand why she would even consider working with him. She had patiently set out the rationale she'd used to convince herself: _I've buried my past and I'm not letting it get in the way of my future; I was born to play Elsa_.

They had been sceptical. They said they accepted it at the time although not without securing her promise that she would speak to them daily. So here she was again, having to reassure them that she knew what she was doing and that she was not hooking up with Finn again. She told them the article didn't bother her one bit, that gossip was par for the course in Hollywood. She reminded them of how they'd had to get used to it when she made it on Broadway. Hollywood was the same but more intense, much more intense. She was finally able to put down her phone, her dads content.

That wouldn't be the word to describe herself she thought as she stared at the pile of Kleenex that littered the floor around her. She'd been crying since she read the darn thing. Hangovers and tears were horrible bedfellows. It was only her fathers' call that forced her to get a hold of herself. Persuading them went some way to convincing herself that she had to let it go. This happened all the time. She didn't need to be a baby about it. So, the article painted her to be a gold-digging bitch using dirt on her ex to land the show. So what? She knew it wasn't true. It was a grain of truth twisted and distorted into an ugly thing. She certainly wasn't using her body to seduce Finn into accepting her even if she did want him to accept her. She wanted him to like her again, she wanted him to… She felt the prick of tears again and shook her head angrily. _Enough._

She stood up with a jump and grabbed a wicker waste basket kept in a corner of the lounge. She picked up all the used tissues hurriedly and raced to the garbage bin outside. She didn't want any reminders in the house of how pathetic her day had been.

She had two scenes to prepare for tomorrow, one with Sallis in the morning and one with Drumm. She deferred working on the second scene, not least because she felt so guilty about Finn. His precious boat had been identified in the article and she knew he'd hate that. She hadn't told anybody about the boat but she still felt guilty. She'd texted Quinn who was on set with Finn about the article and asked her to tell him how sorry she was.

She had the first scene down pat when the phone rang again. Truth was she had over-prepared the scene to put off turning to the second. Grateful for another excuse to procrastinate, she answered without checking. "Hello?"

"Rachel! You've been holding out on me."

Rachel's heart sank on recognizing Wally Worth's voice. "Hi, Wally," she said carefully. "I'm not sure what you mean." She was lying. The last thing Wally had told her was to play the spurned lover ignored by the mighty star. She'd rebelled.

"Yes, you do but it's fine," Wally said cheerfully. "This is even better! Now we have a love triangle!"

Rachel closed her eyes. "Love triangles suck, Wally," Rachel said. "They're old, they're predictable, they're-"

"-fodder for the masses in real life, Rachel. They'll keep the gossips arguing amongst themselves for ages. Which will he choose, which should he choose? Team Edward/Team Jacob. Team Peeta/Team Gale. Team Serena/Team Kath. Team Wesley/Team Mindy. Hmmm, that's an idea. If we throw in a little side action with you and Quinn, it could be a goldmine. I mean, you two are living together now so that can work. We'll need to raise Quinn's profile. Give me the high school dirt on her. I'll be able to…"

Rachel held the phone away from her ear, staring at it as if it was toxic. She could still hear Wally yammering. She couldn't believe his gall. She was so tempted to tell him to fuck himself that she had to wait twenty seconds before she could listen to him again.

"Rachel! Tell me!"

"I told you everything already, Wally. If you want more on Quinn, you'll have to talk to her. For the record, that piece is bullshit. Finn and I are friends, it was a friendly peck on the cheek, and Quinn and Puck were on the boat with us. There were no planks involved."

"Yeah, yeah. Prince Waldorf gets everything wrong but that's beside the point. The real point is the buzz this creates. Have you seen the comments?"

Rachel had seen some comments but had been too upset to take much notice. "No," she said hesitantly.

"Take a look. I think you'll be surprised. Then try and tell me that mining your personal lives isn't creating buzz for the show." With that, Wally signed off.

Rachel snorted and threw the phone across the floor. On realising she should warn Quinn, she ran to rescue it, relieved it was still functional. She texted Quinn to say Wally would be stalking her. She collapsed back on the couch to consider Wally the Weasel's words.

The higher ground would be to dismiss the call and get to work on her scene with Finn. The low road was a further excuse to stonewall. Rachel took the low road. Her abused phone needed recharging so she turned on the television and went online. She found the article again and looked down the comments.

When she'd first seen the story, there had been maybe twenty comments. The first four just said "First!" She saw with astonishment that there were now over two thousand. She couldn't imagine what on earth was so all-inspiring about Prince Waldorf's piece. She settled back and began to read.

She turned off the television after an hour. She hated to admit it, but Wally was right. People loved talking about her and Finn, their murky history and how it would impact on the show. Of course, many of those people were crazy, making assumptions and in short order turning those assumptions into facts.. She wondered why it didn't bother Wally how many were saying that the show would be a train wreck because of it but she supposed he was from the school that held any publicity was good publicity.

Well, she thought, she was out. Not out of the show, but out of getting involved with this crazy stuff. Wally would get nothing else from her and she wouldn't be reading anything more about herself. She hadn't yet sorted out a press agent for this coast and it was time she did, time she left it to the professionals. She wondered if she could ask Finn for his recommendation. Quinn, she knew, didn't have one yet either. Maybe they could get a two-for-one deal. Rachel giggled.

Thinking about Finn made her finally pick up the scene for the next afternoon. It was short and she learned it quickly, all the while her heart racing. _Oh God, this is it._

She threw down the script and laid her head back on the couch. It would be a rough day tomorrow, she thought. Back in New York, it was easy to convince herself she'd be okay working with Finn. Well, maybe not easy but necessary and necessary was more important; necessary would see her through. Necessary saw her through her less than honourable actions to secure the role, after all. It was so unfair that fate's first test of her resolve was the sight of Finn stark naked. It was a sharp reminder – one that stabbed her in the heart – that it being necessary to be this close to Finn may not be enough to push all the feelings that came rushing up from her depths back down where they belonged. Getting to know him again, getting to like him again, these were fate's gentler trials but they made it even harder for her to keep her emotions at bay. The past was past, sure, but facts were facts. She had loved Finn and everything inside her was screaming that maybe she'd never stopped. No. She couldn't go there. A house of cards or not, she had to build a barrier between the actress and girl who had curled herself into a ball for a week after the man she loved left her. She had to find a means to lock it all away, a way that didn't adversely affect her ability to show Elsa's growing attraction to Drumm convincingly. She just had to or everything she'd worked for would come tumbling down and the sacrifices she'd made would be meaningless.

Rachel picked up the script again, determined to make it work. What she couldn't predict was how he would be with this. It had been in the back of her mind all day that something had happened on the boat but the article and everything else had kept it there. It came to the fore now. Much of the night before was a blank to Rachel but there was one thing she remembered with piercing clarity. The words were whispered but they were clear and they were gentle, loving almost, at least that's how it seemed to her. They were his words.

"Mine too."

+...+

"If it's so God damned easy to be a professional, John, then tell me, when was the last time Brad worked with Angelina! Or with Jennifer or Gwyneth! I'm done!"

Finn stormed off the location. He saw Rachel in tears through the corner of his eye but he resolutely ignored her. He went straight to his trailer and slammed the door shut. He dropped onto the leather couch and buried his face in his hands.

He knew he was being unreasonable. He was being a jerk to everyone out there by having a tantrum. It was beneath him and they didn't deserve it. Rachel didn't deserve it. Finn groaned. He'd have to make some mighty big reparations tomorrow, but for now, he couldn't face it. They'd shot the scene sixteen times, unheard of in television, and John still wasn't happy. Finn didn't blame him. He knew he was giving a poor performance. He just hadn't been able to get a handle on it. Rachel was probably doing well but he was so tense and screwed up, he couldn't trust his own judgement on that.

They left him alone for an hour. Finn supposed that they were doing what they could without him – Rachel's follow up scene, he guessed. When the hour was done, there was a knock on the trailer door. Two bottles of water – he didn't drink alcohol on set, a matter of regret in the moment – and a violent session of Halo 9 had calmed him. He unlocked the door and backed away. Amy and John climbed in. Rachel held back, looking up at him, worried. He shook his head.

"It's okay, Rachel. Come on in. I'm sorry I was such a bastard."

Rachel stepped in and joined the other two, making themselves comfortable on the couches. Finn checked if they wanted drinks before sitting down next to Amy. They must have dragged her out from the studio. It was a sign of how much trouble he was in that she had gotten to the location shoot so fast.

"Finn," Amy started, "we need to get this sorted. Drumm and Elsa's relationship is central to the story and if you two can't work out your demons, we're sunk. The network may let us recast…"

Rachel stared down at her hands at this. Finn knew she was thinking she'd be the one to go. She was probably right. It didn't make him feel any better.

"…but there's no guarantee." Amy finished before sighing and turning to John.

"Both of you, listen to me," he pleaded. "The chemistry is there, it's burning up the screen but you're both so tight that it's coming over forced and wrong. Now, I know both of you can act this with your eyes closed so clearly the issue is between you."

Finn rolled his eyes and glared at Amy with raised eyebrows. He'd warned them and they hadn't listened.

John continued, "We're going to try again tomorrow but we don't have a lot of time for takes so you need to resolve it. Finn, you're going to need to take the crew out for a drink too. They're grumbling."

Finn nodded. He agreed with everything they were saying. He just didn't want to go through what came next. John and Amy rose. Amy bent down and gave Finn a hug while John did the same with Rachel. The director and producer shrugged at each other and left their actors alone. Finn kept his eyes on the door until long after they left, until Rachel cleared her throat. Reluctantly, he turned his gaze on her.

+...+

Quinn was about to consign dinner to the garbage disposal when she heard Rachel arrive home. "You're late!" she called out. "Was there a problem on set?" Quinn stopped the food sliding into the sink and levelled the plate. She'd need to reheat and wondered how long before Rachel would be ready to eat. She realised Rachel hadn't responded. "Rachel?" There was no answer.

Slightly fearful, Quinn grabbed the nearest blunt instrument at hand – a rolling pin covered in flour – and crept silently forward towards the lounge. She saw her immediately. Rachel was slumped down at the bottom of the front door, her head on her knees. She was racked with copious tears. Quinn flung away the rolling pin and ran to her friend, crouching down and putting her arms around Rachel. Quinn gently rocked her until the choking sobs stopped.

After getting Rachel onto the couch and making them cups of herbal tea, Quinn sat next to Rachel, remaining quiet until Rachel was ready to talk. Then it all came rushing out, the problems filming the scene, Finn's outburst, the ultimatum from Amy and how Rachel and Finn were forced to face their past to try and deal with it.

"It was so hard. I-I…" Rachel succumbed to her tears again and Quinn put her arm over Rachel's shoulder.

"You don't have to tell me," Quinn said softly, "unless you think it will help."

Rachel stared at her with huge brown eyes made red. She fought for control of her breathing and then, chewing her bottom lip and letting silent tears fall unchecked, Rachel told her.

**Drumm: Chapter Eleven**

_The day he'd checked himself out of hospital, Drumm had gone straight to the agency. He'd spent the next hour being harangued first by Sid and then by Alyssa for leaving the hospital and for refusing to go home. Mitch knew better and had slapped a high five on the hand with the broken fingers. Subtle expression of disapproval, Drumm had thought as he blanched, very subtle. Despite the pain, he grinned at Mitch. After they had finally stopped trying to mother him, Drumm was briefed on the state of play. The only matter of significance to Drumm was what Sid had found out about Cantor Corp. _

_"I always thought your extensive network was made up of cops," Drumm had said, impressed. _

_Sid had bestowed him with a glare that was both contemptuous and pitying of his ignorance. "Cops retire, get other jobs, moron."_

_Drumm had mouthed "Sorr-eeeee" at him and pointed to his bruises as if to offer an excuse. He had then watched the old man shamble back to his desk. Drumm had decided to make himself scarce to avoid the dirty looks and made his way to Theo's office. As soon as he had taken his seat, the phone rang. "Yeah," Drumm had answered, irritated at the interruption and the surfacing of the memory of Theo telling him that insulting Sid was never a good idea._

_"Mr. Drummond? It's Jeff Jensen."_

_Drumm had quickly reviewed events in his mind. He'd forgotten Jensen. He'd better be nice. "Dr. Jensen, hello. My apologies. I've been out of the office since I last saw you. I'm arranging for the contents of the file to be sent to you today." Drumm had hoped that his toadying would take any bluster out of Jensen's sails._

_"Um, right, okay," Jensen had stuttered. Drumm had got it right and that pleased him. "If you could, yes, that would be excellent. Send them here, please, my office. And send everything, okay?"_

_"Got it," Drumm had said. "Anything else Drummond Investigations can do for you?"_

_"No, no, thank you. Goodbye." The phone had gone dead as he hung up. _

_Drumm hadn't had a leap in him but he had levered himself out of the chair and made his way to the main office. He had been lucky that Mitch was still there. "Mitch, remember the Jensen case? The guy wants everything we got sent to him so he can destroy it. Can you sort that out for me?" Mitch had nodded and Drumm had returned to Theo's office to read the Cantor Corp. file. _

_Whatever cop or cops it was that Sid had pumped, they were financial experts now and what Drumm had in front of him was a report on the movements of the company and what those movements meant. The upshot was that Cantor Corp. was going public and that it was going to cost a small fortune to do it. It wasn't much really, Drumm thought. How could it be relevant?_

_What made it relevant came to light six days later, the afternoon of the night Drumm broke into Sophie Cantor's apartment. Drumm, in a fit of boredom at being stuck in the office because he still looked like the Hulk – although it wasn't so bad now and he had sworn that this was his last day of incarceration from the world of light –went through the agency's copies of Cliff's files, seeing if there was anything that had been missed. He had nearly skipped the Washington file, remembering that it was the couple who had reconciled but he had the time and had thought what the hell. _

_There was a picture in the file that Drumm hadn't recalled seeing in Cliff's file. It was a handsome guy in his forties in corduroys and a yellow sweater. Drumm had idly understood why Mrs. Washington was possessive enough to have a private detective follow him. Drumm checked the back of the photo. It was printed with a name: Jason Montana. It was Theo's writing._

_Drumm had returned the picture to the file and continued checking the others but something had niggled at him, something that didn't make sense. Washington, Montana. Washington, Montana. Washington-_

_Drumm had picked up the phone and called Cliff. "Have you ever seen Mrs. Washington's husband, seen a picture or met him? Can you describe him?" he had said in a rush as soon as Cliff picked up the phone._

_"Well, hello to you too," Cliff had responded. "I know that you've taken a beating but in the real world the normal pleasantries are still considered-"_

_"Cliff! This is important!"_

_"No doubt. Give me a minute to get my brain in gear. Okay, I never met him but I was treated to the photo album the first day she came in. It's not uncommon. Mr. Washington is fifty-two, about six foot tall, black, greying hair-"_

_"Thanks!" Drumm had slammed the phone down. He had grabbed the Washington file and pulled out the picture. Levering himself up again, he'd run as fast as he could, waddled really, back to the main office. "Sid, can you find out who Jason Montana is?"_

_Two hours later, Drumm had stared at the picture of Jason Montana. "You bastard," Drumm had whispered to himself, "you hid it in plain sight. Washington, Montana. You never opened a file for Sophie Cantor, you just stuck it in an existing one that was dead. What else have you got socked away? Where's your stuff on Thurlow?" Six hours later had found him sitting on Sophie Cantor's armchair in the dark._

+...+

_Elsa crammed Sally Prior's file back in the drawer. She prayed it was in the right place as she quickly closed the cabinet and raced back to the couch. She didn't have time to settle, so she went through the motions of just waking up as Sallis entered. He was surprised and not happy to see her._

_"What are you doing in here?" he demanded._

_"Oh, hello baby," she said, yawning. "I wasn't feeling well so Tony let me lie down." She rose and sashayed her way over to him. "Seeing you makes all the difference." She snaked her arms up his chest and over his shoulders, squirming against him as she extinguished all the air between them. She pressed her lips to his. He hadn't moved and Elsa had to work at it to get him to finally admit her tongue entrance. It was perfunctory as he disengaged himself roughly, squeezing the tops of her arms hard. Elsa would have to remember to get the orange dress back from Trudy first thing tomorrow and prayed it would be wearable._

_"I don't like anyone in here when I'm not here," Wilson said. "You know that, princess."_

_"I know, baby, but it was that or go home and I just had to do everything I could not to let you down out there." Elsa was saved further excuses by the arrival of Tony. He wasn't looking too happy either. Elsa checked her watch. "Is that the time? I've got to run." She kissed Sallis's cheek and made for the door into the club. She wasn't stopped._

_Elsa's racing pulse didn't start to slow down until she was back in the dressing room, chiding herself. Stupid, stupid, stupid, she thought. What was she thinking? Truth is, she had to admit to herself, she wasn't. She'd let a pair of puppy dog eyes and a few bruises risk everything she'd worked so hard for and it could not happen again. Ever._

+...+

_Captain Christopher Thurlow prided himself on his smart appearance. There wasn't a speck of grey to be seen running through the luxuriant raven hair, he exercised regularly to keep himself as fit and slim as he had been in college, and he took care of his skin. His appearance was much like his life: disciplined, ordered, planned, deliberate. He mixed with the best people, he did favours when he could be sure of a much larger return, and he kept the status quo running smoothly. He was a true political animal, working his way up life's ladder with a ruthless ambition that he'd never troubled to hide. It was better than a business card. People knew immediately where they stood with him – tools to his interests and his aspirations. Even his wife understood her station in his world. After all, she'd been chosen for no other reason than her connections._

_Drumm thought that with all that going for him, he still looked like a snake. Thurlow's face was narrow but broad across the forehead. It made his brow more prominent and it hung over small, black eyes. Drumm wouldn't have been shocked to see inner eye lids. Thurlow had the forked-tongue already, after all. The man looked like a snake, he was a snake and, for the life of him, Drumm couldn't find one rational reason why this rotten snake was standing in his office. Thurlow didn't want to be there, that was clear enough. His lip had all but curled when Sid showed him in. Drumm didn't want him there, that was for damn certain. This was the other man that had ruined his brother's life and Drumm could easily believe that Thurlow would have gone a step further if it suited him and ended it. The problem was that Drumm hadn't found anything on Thurlow. He knew there had to be something. He made a mental note to search the apartment again for the file Theo must have compiled._

_"Unless you're here on official business," Drumm said, "get out of my office." That it was the first time he'd said "my office" escaped him._

_Thurlow didn't respond to Drumm. Instead, he put his hand on Sid's shoulder, saying "Thank you, Sid. You can leave us now." Sid couldn't shrug the touch off fast enough and muttered darkly as he hobbled away. Thurlow shut the door and looked around. Without invitation, he took a seat in the chair opposite the desk. _

_"So," Thurlow said, with a tone that was equable, "you have taken over the agency. I am surprised someone with your record is allowed to even work here." He even sounded like a snake, his sibilant speech formal and stiff._

_"What record?" Drumm didn't bat his eyelids because it would be unmanly and stupid but he was sorely tempted._

_"True. You were never actually brought to justice thanks to your brother. You, at least, should appreciate the value of having friends in the right places. That is very important in life, you know. Your brother was too stupid to understand that."_

_Drumm felt his temper rise and his fingers curl into fists. The pain in his broken fingers jerked him out of the rising swirl that would lead to nothing but catastrophe so Drumm settled for grinding his teeth and tightening his jaw. "What do you want, Thurlow?"_

_Thurlow shrugged. "Besides offering advice on the value of friends, the risk of upsetting the wrong people," Thurlow paused to gesture at the fading bruises and the splinted fingers, "and the wisdom of keeping your nose out of places you don't belong, you mean?"_

_Drumm stayed calm. "Yeah," he said shortly, "besides that." Drumm had to make an effort not to sound truculent._

_"Courtesy call," Thurlow said. "I am here to tell you that we are closing the case on your brother. We have no evidence and we do not have the manpower to devote any more time to what was almost certainly a random mugging. I thought you would want to hear it from the horse's mouth."_

_"The horse's ass, you mean," Drumm said softly. Thurlow didn't react except to rise from the chair and walk to the door. He paused with his hand on the knob._

_"Remember what I said about needing friends, Tommy. For example, if I had recently authorised a sweep to pick up all the street dealers and one of them had made a statement to the effect that he had sold you heroin, you would need a friend now, wouldn't you?" Thurlow gave his approximation of a smile which simply stretched his thin lips a little wider before opening the door and leaving. Drumm leaned back in the chair, stunned._

_"Shit."_

+...+

_Elsa's resolve to forget about Drumm lasted three days. In those days of forgetting about him, all she saw whenever she closed her eyes was him. She'd felt a physical attraction the moment she'd seen him even though she wasn't in the business of letting herself be attracted to anyone. He was a good looking guy, she was human and it was a hard, lonely road that she was travelling with Wilson Sallis. Just enjoying his features was light relief, a bizarre reaction for her to have at a funeral. Then he'd turned up at the club. She hated that her justifiable dismay on seeing him was diluted by the thrill that ran through her. The less thought about the times he'd actually opened his mouth, the better. She couldn't remember when she'd last engaged in banter. She who weighed every word, every action let herself go with him. She was drawn to help him because, for a moment in time, she'd had fun despite him lying bruised in a hospital bed with one warm brown eye never leaving her face as he tried to charm her. Something worked for him because here she was. _

_There were two times in any given week when Elsa was certain to be free of Sallis and Tony. One was her weekly appointment at the hairdresser's. Sallis had yielded to Tony's pleas that she didn't need protecting when she was there as all the guys were gay. For once, Elsa was grateful that the two of them were bigots. The second time was when Elsa went to confession. Sometimes she was alone on Sundays too, when Sallis got bored of going with her to the service, but it could never be guaranteed that she would be on her own. She got out alone other times, but those occasions took planning and guile. Sallis even preferred her to be accompanied when she went shopping. Slipping out and avoiding the escort often resulted in retaliation, like the black eye she got after evading Tony to pay her respects to Theo Drummond._

_It was Theo that she was doing this for. He'd understood instinctively that talking to her put her at risk and he'd protected her with that slap. It was a small gesture but after living so long in the hellholes that were the Pink Leopard and Sallis's apartment, small gestures meant a lot. She was doing it because she reckoned she owed him. At least, that's what she told herself when she called Drumm and demanded he meet her at St. Ignatius' Church on Sunderby Road at noon. It had nothing to do with any desire to see the oaf again._

_Exiting the confessional, Elsa saw Drumm immediately. She smiled. He was too big to meld into the shadows of an empty church. Instead, he'd taken to one of the pews and was on his knees. He glanced over at her as soon as she appeared. With her head, Elsa indicated that she should follow him. Elsa led Drumm towards the altar and out a heavy wooden door at the side of the sacristy. There was a small private garden enclosed between the church and the wall surrounding it. The contours of the church hid it from view of any onlookers. As soon as Drumm closed the door behind him, Elsa turned to face him. She licked her lips and shook back her long hair._

_"This is the one and only time we will meet again," she said quickly. "I found Sally Prior's employment file at the club. This is the address on the file." Elsa tried to thrust a piece of paper into Drumm's hand. _

_Elsa had resolutely determined in advance that she wouldn't look at Drumm while she rattled off what she wanted to say but she stole a glance up at him through her eyelashes as she handed him the address. The bruises had faded and he looked back to normal. He was staring down at her and once his eyes locked onto hers, she couldn't turn away. She licked her lips again, feeling parched. He didn't take the piece of paper immediately. He let his fingers rest against her skin before he accepted it. She felt a bolt of electricity sweep up her arm and snatched her hand away._

_"Thank you," he said softly. Elsa didn't want to linger on why those two words made her stomach churn. "Why are you doing this for me?" _

_"I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it for your brother and for Sally," she responded indignantly. _

_"No," Drumm said, his head shaking. "I don't think that's it. You didn't come to the hospital for Theo. Something else is going on here. You feel it, I feel it. Whatever it is that you have going on with Sallis, you came for me. I think you're developing a soft spot me. For what it's worth-"_

_"Concussion," Elsa interrupted, "wasn't it? It's made you delusional."_

_Drumm smirked. "No man is happy without a delusion of some kind. Delusions are as necessary to our happiness as realities."_

_"What book of quotes did you pull out of your ass for that gem?"_

_"Don't remember," he said with a shrug. "I just liked it and it stuck. Why are you avoiding the topic?"_

_"Why am I-?" She was getting cross. "You are insane. The topic is Sally, not some stupid notion that there's anything, that there can ever be anything going on between-" Elsa was getting drawn in and it was a mistake, a huge one. She took a deep breath. "I don't have time for this. They'll come looking for me if I don't get back soon. Do you want to know what I found out or not?"_

_Drumm nodded. She hated that the smirk was still playing across his face._

_"Sally stopped working at the club six weeks ago. That's all I have and all I can get. I have to go." _

_Elsa walked past Drumm to terminate the meeting and to terminate any further dealings with the man who was provoking her to such madness. Drumm didn't step aside for her, so she had to go around him. When level with him, she was horrified to see the iron ring that marked the handle of the door start to turn. Someone was coming into the garden. She had taken too long._

_Elsa was frozen but Drumm wasn't. He grabbed her, swung her around in front of him, shielding her with his body, and bent his head down to kiss her. Elsa struggled uselessly against him, already fearful of her chances of surviving to explain just meeting him. This made it a hundred times worse. As the door rattled open, the kiss deepened and Elsa's terror was coupled with a new and very different kind of feeling._

_"Oh, sorry! I didn't realise anyone was out here. I'll leave you two youngsters to your privacy."_

_Drumm let her go in time for her to look around him and see the trailing robes of one of the priests as he vanished behind the door. She stared at the door and then up at Drumm. He was grinning and oh so very smug. Not wanting to exacerbate his recent concussion, because dear God he couldn't afford to lose anymore brain cells, limited her options. _

_She drew back her leg and kneed him hard in the groin._


	12. How Could Anybody Possibly Know How I Fe

**The _Glee_ characters belong to _Glee_, the rest of the characters belong to me. This story is improved no end by wood-u-like-2-no's contribution as beta and soundboard. As for this chapter: yikes! **

**Conceit: Chapter titles are song titles. Morrissey. Enough said. **

**+...+**

**Chapter Twelve: How Could Anybody Possibly Know How I Feel?**

**New York, 2013**

"What's that one?"

Finn looked down to see where she was pointing. It was along the outer side of his left thigh. "Radiator. I'd just got off sentry duty. It was so cold and I was so tired, I curled up in the mess next to the heater and fell asleep until I felt my leg on fire."

Rachel's eyes went wide in horror. "You idiot! You could have died!"

"Idiot, yes. Died, no," he said, laughing. "It'll fade. And you weren't nearly so freaked out by the bullet hole." He pulled her down on top of him and rolled them over on the bed. "Your turn again. This one?" He was pointing to a bruise on her shoulder just as it curved down to the top of her arm.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "That was dance class. Now I know what it feels like to be the worst dancer in the group."

She grinned up at him as he raised an eyebrow. "At least I never lost a toe nail. And I think that snide remark deserves a special form of punishment."

"Promise?" she purred as she wiggled underneath him.

"Prom-" His words were lost against the skin at her throat which he teased with his lips, teeth and tongue.

It was his first four-day pass since he'd been in the army. He hadn't seen her for five months, not since he'd finished basic and advanced training and been able to spend a week of his two week leave with her in New York. They'd hoped she could go to Lima with him for his second week but she couldn't get permission to leave NYADA. So they'd had one perfect, beautiful week, interrupted by the odd class she couldn't get out of and the odd appearance of her banished roommate in search of clean clothes, before being apart for another five months. Letters, phone calls, messages, conferencing, they did them all but it was spasmodic due to Finn's deployment and a poor substitute for this.

He wasn't sure how it was possible but her skin was softer than he remembered and he always remembered it as marshmallow. He caressed her neck with his lips, travelling up to her ear. It tasted of coconut and butter and he inhaled the scent of her hair deeply. Rachel was tracing his spine with her nails which she'd grown. He shivered as they lightly scraped the bone. He groaned and captured her lips, diving into the sweetness beyond. Her nails digging into his ass made him drive urgently into the honey between her other lips.

+...+

Rachel hummed happily as she applied her makeup. She giggled remembering Finn's face when she told him her plans for their night. The last time they were together, they hardly left the bed. This time, they were going to spend an evening at the theatre. His reproach didn't last. She told him how much she wanted to be the one to take him to his first Broadway musical. He'd caught her enthusiasm and the truth was he wanted to see something while he was here. He just begrudged the time it took from their being alone together. She felt the same but this brief outing was so worth it. Of course it was. It was the perfect setting for her to spring her surprise on him. She giggled again. He was going to be so proud.

She was pleased that she'd managed to move into the apartment before his pass started. She had been worried that they'd be stuck back at her residence room in NYADA. It was a close run thing with the last box unpacked the day before he turned up but now they had a place entirely to themselves. Serendipity had bestowed the apartment on her; someone who knew someone who was going on a European tour, yadda, yadda. She had it for the summer and the arrangement was perfect. It let her live in New York for the vacation and when the owner returned, she'd be back in residence at NYADA. The apartment was tiny. It was the shoe-box she and Finn had talked about. When he'd first arrived she'd laughed heartily at how he filled up each room he stepped into, barely leaving enough space for her. Fortunately, the bed was huge. She blessed her landlord for his priorities.

Rachel examined the image before her critically. No one else was going to say it – untrue, she said preening to herself, Finn would – but she looked fabulous. She was wearing a cornflower blue Versace knock-off cocktail dress that made her eyes sparkle. It was lace-like, giving glimpses of skin underneath whilst protecting her modesty. She had paired it with little jewellery, wearing only a pair of dangling silver earrings. The only problem now was which lipstick.

Rachel heard Finn call from the lounge. "Babe! Where're the tickets?"

She frowned, trying to remember where she'd put them. "Try the box on the window sill," she yelled back, staring intently at the lipstick swathes she'd made on her hand. She held her hand up against her face, looking at the swatches in the mirror. She couldn't make up her mind between the two and so decided neither was right. She checked her collection again. She found two new possibilities and tried them on the other hand. She sighed.

"Did you find them?" she called out. "Finn? Finn, did you find the tickets?" There was no response.

+...+

"Try the box on the window sill," Finn heard from the bathroom.

Finn looked around and saw the box she was talking about. He was there in two strides. He was anywhere in the apartment in two strides, he thought to himself. It was really small. The box was decorated with kittens and hearts and bore on the top the legend "My Desk." Finn grinned and opened it.

The box was stuffed full of paperwork of all kinds. There were bills, there were playbills and programmes, lists of songs, a list of people Rachel wanted to die in a fire – _What?_ – there were ticket stubs, lots of them. Rachel must have seen every production in New York, some more than once. He dug deeper but the box was so precariously set on the narrow sill that he upended it and the contents spilled across the floor. _Damn._

Finn crouched down, bumping into the couch and the tv on the way and frantically collected all the papers together. As luck would have it, the tickets for the revival of _The Music Man_ were at the top of the pile as he started and he slipped them into his inside jacket pocket. He'd retrieved everything when he saw something that had slid under the couch. He reached and grabbed it, glancing at it idly. It looked like a report card from NYADA. Finn was fascinated to read the comments made by various teachers about Rachel's talent. Her dance teacher was the only one to make any negative comment and Finn, who reckoned she was a great dancer, frowned as he read it.

_An adequate dancer with limited flexibility and a tendency to flay; she needs to-_

Finn had reached the bottom of the page and checked for the second. It was stuck to the first and Finn felt something tacky on his fingers. Honey? He chuckled. Rachel was not tidy at breakfast. He pried the pages apart carefully and studied the second, eager to finish the review. He was surprised to find that the second page was not part of the report from NYADA. As he took in what it said, the blood drained from his face. He rose to his feet slowly, unable to tear his eyes away from the damning words.

"Did you find them? Finn? Finn, did you find the tickets?"

Finn heard her but he didn't have the voice to speak. He was too shocked to move. She came into the room.

"Finn, did you- What's that?"

Finn could only muster enough muscle control to turn his head and stare at her.

"Finn! You're scaring me!" Rachel marched towards him and took the paper from his lifeless hand. As soon as she saw the letterhead, she knew. "Oh my God," she said, the words barely audible. She let the letter drop to the floor and looked up at the man she loved. She had never seen him so lost.

His eyes had narrowed to slits and he whispered in a croak. "You had an abortion? And you didn't tell me?"

+...+

A month after Finn spent his first leave with her, Rachel was recommended by one of the NYADA teachers to play Amaryllis in _The Music Man _in the summer. The producers trusted the teacher, auditioned Rachel and offered her the job. The timing was perfect as she wouldn't be needed until after her classes finished for the academic year in mid-June and the person whose maternity absence she was covering would return before the next NYADA term started in mid-September. Rachel began preparing immediately, spending most nights at the theatre, understudying Jeannette Burton. Jeannette was very young looking so it had surprised Rachel to learn that she and her husband had been trying for years to have a baby. As a result of the treatment she was having, Jeannette had known the moment she became pregnant and her cast mates had celebrated with her. Jeannette had told the producers immediately, reassuring them that although she was tempted to put her feet up for her entire pregnancy, her doctors were advising her to carry on being active until she was at least six-seven months pregnant, subject to regular checks. Grateful enough that the producers were willing to keep her role open for her return, Jeannette gave Rachel a lot of her time, preparing her for the part well in advance just in case something happened and she had to pull out quickly.

Four weeks after that, Rachel realised that what she had put down to skipped meals and exhaustion was something else. She was pregnant. She wasn't sure how it had happened. They'd used condoms and everything but somehow, it had. She was going to have a baby and the timing was such that she was only a month and a half behind Jeannette. She'd have to pull out.

Rachel spent the day in her room, talking to no one. Her first instinct had been to call Finn but he was overseas and there was no guarantee that she could reach him quickly. She wasn't sure what he'd say. She knew he thought maybe Quinn should have had an abortion but he had respected that it was Quinn's decision, even when he thought he was the father. He'd do the same for her, wouldn't he? He would except he wasn't sixteen anymore. He had a career and he could raise a child and this one really was his, his very own Drizzle. Rachel let out a cross between a sob and a laugh. Maybe she needed to make up her own mind before she talked to him. It would guide her in what she needed to say.

Her own mind was in a whirl. There was something about having Finn's baby inside her that overwhelmed her with love. A person they'd created together would be born. There couldn't be anything better, could there? Rachel could picture herself, a baby at her breast and Finn watching over them both, puffed up with pride and love. She felt a warmth course through every part of her at the image.

_Broadway._

The image shattered. She saw herself as Amaryllis in _The Music Man_, an opportunity to be noticed that would take years to come again, if it ever did come again. The recommendation, the show, the producers' loyalty to Jeannette, the apartment and everything else had fallen together perfectly in circumstances that would never be repeated. It was a chance in a million and it was in her grasp. She could feel it, she could touch it and she could taste it. It was fate handing her the first instalment of the prize she'd always believed was hers; the prize Finn was 100% certain was hers if they sacrificed their immediate happiness and surrendered to it. Walking away from this gift wasn't surrendering; it was spitting fate in the face.

Having a baby now didn't just mean walking away from _The Music Man_. It meant giving up all of it. She couldn't put in the time and energy she needed to succeed on Broadway with a baby. The baby would have to have it all, especially with Finn being unavailable so much of the time. He was happy in the army; he'd talked about staying in and making it his career. He'd have to give that up. Even then, her attention would be split between the child at home and the stage. She couldn't be an absentee mom. She just couldn't; been there, done that from the other side of the equation. She had never resented Shelby for stepping out of her life but she had missed so much not having a mother and she could not put a child of hers in a similar position. She'd have to wait anyway, wait for Finn to be able to help her or wait for the baby to not need so much of her. Either way, her chances of making it on Broadway at all could slip away.

_Family._

Would it be different if her dads or Burt and Carole helped out, raised the baby for them, at least initially? How? She was still abandoning her child to others and she knew she wouldn't be able to do that. It would be no different than expecting Finn to give up his career so he could take the responsibility. If the child was in her life, she'd want to be with him or her. Rachel swallowed a sob and pushed down the image of her son or daughter. She knew in her heart that every time she stepped on stage, she'd regret not being at home, be it New York or Lima or wherever, with her Drizzle. Besides, they were all old and they'd done their raising of children. They didn't deserve being forced to do it again. Burt's heart, her dads' time with their passions, all put under strain for a situation that would still not make her or Finn any happier. She wanted Finn's children. She wanted them passionately, just not _now_.

She could give up _The Music Man_ and have the baby adopted. She shook her head. That wouldn't work. If she had the baby, she fervently believed that Finn would make whatever sacrifices he had to for them to raise the child. She couldn't see him standing back. Besides, the adoption option had driven Quinn crazy for a while. Rachel didn't want to go crazy. Thinking up the phrase "adoption option" made her sound half crazy already. Rachel let out a harsh giggle that had nothing to do with humour.

_Choose._

Rachel had always believed that women had the right to their bodies and to decide for themselves whether or not to abort unwanted pregnancies. She'd just imagined in her rosy, blurry view of life that she could never have an abortion herself. It wasn't that she thought it was murder – she didn't believe the growing seed was a life yet. It was that she saw children as a product of the happily-ever-after and her happily-ever-after was with Finn, after she'd conquered Broadway when he was home and at her side. She'd never imagined this mess when neither of them was in a position to have a child without losing everything else.

She hung her head and cried tears of mourning and regret. She knew what she had to do. It was the right choice for her.

Rachel thought about calling her dads to talk it over with them. She tried to imagine the conversation and all she could think about was how hard they'd worked to bring their own daughter into their lives. They wanted her to succeed as much as she did but they'd wanted her even more in the first place. If it came to a choice between Rachel's dreams and their grandchild, she thought they'd want to be granddads. They'd leave it to her, she knew that, but they'd be so hurt by the loss. She couldn't do it to them. It was probably better for them that they never knew.

Maybe, she thought, the same was true for Finn.

_It's his child too._

Rachel cursed the inner voice. "Don't you understand," she silently screamed at it, "I can't let Finn change my mind and it-it could finish us. I can't lose him." The voice quelled, Rachel knew deep down that it was right but she was adamant that it was justifiable to keep it from him. The loss of this child would hurt him so much, even if he didn't try to talk her out of it. "He'll respect my decision even if he doesn't want me to," she said to herself. Wouldn't it be better to spare him the pain? They'd promised never to lie to each other a long time ago, after he failed to confess losing his virginity to Santana. At the time, he said he did it to save her pain but she hadn't really made the effort to understand that reasoning. Now she did understand it and it was powerfully compelling. That it was cowardly and self-serving too she brushed off as mere coincidence.

So, she _should_ tell him but there was no point. It was her decision after all and she'd made it. If he didn't know, then he wouldn't have to think about it. She wouldn't forget but she could bear the burden alone, she was sure of it. She'd tell him one day when they had six fat babies at home, playing as they watched them proudly with their hearts melting. She'd tell him then and he'd cry and she'd rock him, comforting him and murmuring that it was all for the best.

It was the right thing to do.

+...+

"Finn, I-"

Finn held his hands up. "No, no, Rachel, not now. I can't-I can't look at you right now. I have to get out of here." He looked around frantically. Everything had been wiped from his mind except the betrayal he felt at knowing that Rachel had aborted his child without talking to him first. He saw the door and started towards it.

Rachel grabbed his arm and clung. She was crying. "Finn, please, wait!"

Finn shook her off none too gently. He didn't look at her. "Rachel, I would never hurt you so I can't talk to you right now. I really can't. I'll-I'll come back. I just, I just need some time." He raced to the door and ran out. He heard her cry out his name. It sounded like the wail of a banshee but he didn't stop. He didn't dare.

Finn strode out of the building. He was grateful for the rain. It masked the tears. He had no clue where he was going. He just walked and for a while he jogged. Eventually, he slowed down and took a note of his surroundings. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry when he saw he was in Times Square. The crowd was a mix of tourists, theatre-goers, vendors and hookers, many gesturing at him. He ignored them all and walked further, looking for and finding Grand Central Station. He spied a bench tucked away in a corner and sank onto it, his head in his hands.

_She had an abortion._

Before the moment he knew, Finn would have put his hand on his heart and pledged that he supported a woman's right to choose. Principles were easy until they were tested. Somehow it was different when it was your child and the woman you loved. He wasn't sure he could work out how it was different and if he couldn't work it out, maybe he didn't have the right to be this upset or to feel betrayed. A baby would have royally screwed up everything they planned, that was for sure. He'd sacrificed his engagement to Rachel to give her a shot at the fame she deserved. She'd have a much harder time achieving anything with a baby. It wasn't only folks in Lima who could end up losers. There were losers in New York, in the army, everywhere. He rubbed his head vigorously, trying to make room in his brain to rationalize what she had done. He could acknowledge that there was sense in her having an abortion.

_Drizzle._

Finn choked out a sob thinking about the baby that would never be. His son, his daughter had been flushed away, all while he was marching in drills, shooting at enemies or drinking beers with his mate, Ben. A life snuffed out. His child. Finn knew it wasn't a life yet but it didn't make it feel any different than if his child had died fully formed and born. He wanted to grieve.

_She didn't tell you._

That was what he couldn't comprehend. Why hadn't she told him? Did she think he'd fight her or try and talk her out of it? Maybe he would – he'd never know now – but he'd have to accept her decision. Why did it matter that she didn't tell him if it was her decision and if he truly accepted that it was?

This is where Finn's brain nearly exploded. He couldn't understand why he felt so sure that it was a betrayal unless that's what it was. He didn't know how she'd become pregnant. They'd taken precautions and he was smarter now than he used to be. There had to have been a hole in one. There was an army urban myth that a pinhole was made in every tenth condom in the factory, just for shits and giggles. Maybe it was true. Whatever, they'd made a baby together, they should have decided together. They really should have done that together. Rachel had no right to do this without telling him, he was convinced of that. It was like he didn't matter. He wasn't sure he could ever forgive her for that.

_Maybe it wasn't yours. _

That's ridiculous he told the inner voice angrily. He trusted Rachel. He trusted her more than he trusted Ben and he trusted Ben with his life. She wouldn't have slept with another guy. He knew her. Her feelings for him were as strong as they had ever been; they were undiluted.

Sure, Jesse was on the scene again. Finn'd learned that little gem two days ago when Rachel told him about some off-off Broadway play Jesse secured. It was after they were sated and content, after Rachel had surprised him by telling him she'd finally gone onto birth control despite her my-body-is-my-temple reluctance and they wouldn't need the boxes of condoms they'd consumed the last time. Finn had felt the old surge of jealousy he felt whenever Jesse's name came up and it must have been obvious from his face because Rachel had laughed like a hyena.

"I know what Jesse is, Finn. You know that. He's a scared little boy and he has no power over me anymore. I love you, my soldier boy." She'd snuggled up closer to him and started stroking him in a place that ended conversation.

No way was the baby not his.

_The last one wasn't._

He was stupid then. He and Quinn never had sex. He and Quinn had never loved each other like he and Rachel did. He loved Quinn, but as a friend, no more. It took him two years in high school to understand how very different a kind of love it was to what he felt with Rachel. As for Quinn, he was never sure how she felt about him, even when he was her boyfriend. It didn't matter. It was the past. Past is past, best to move on.

Rachel wouldn't get pregnant with another man's child and tell Finn it was his. Rachel knew how it had devastated him when Quinn did it to him. She wouldn't do the same thing that Quinn had done.

_Except the time she did._

She hadn't passed off a child as his before, right, but just like Quinn, she had cheated on him with Puck. She'd done it to punish Finn, but still, she'd done it. Now she was on birth control, which she'd always resisted before, and there was Jesse and it didn't make sense that she didn't tell him about the baby unless…

Finn let out a groan, one loud enough to attract attention. A police officer took enough notice to start sauntering towards him. Finn was in a fragile enough state of mind that he couldn't risk a confrontation with anyone, so he stood and made his way out of the station. It was dark and Finn walked back towards Times Square. Maybe he should head for Central Park. Maybe he should head back to the apartment. Maybe he should go back into the station, board a train going anywhere and never look back.

**Drumm: Chapter Twelve**

_Drumm was doubled up, groaning. She was pleased to see the tears in his eyes. "Are you fucking crazy?" Elsa said a quick "forgive me" to herself on remembering where she was but it didn't stem the tirade at Drumm. "How dare you! What did you think you were doing?" She backed away from Drumm._

_"I was improvising," Drumm croaked out, slowing straightening. He folded his arms and stared down at her, amusement mixed with anger mixed with pain. "Besides, you wanted to know what it would feel like as much as I did."_

_"You were- I what?" Elsa knew what he said was true. Worse, she knew he knew it too. That didn't make it any more acceptable for him to say it or think it. She was being irrational, she knew that. At least part of him was trying to help her when he- Damn it! She didn't think clearly when it came to him. This guy could push her buttons so easily, she was scared and that made her mean. She drew herself up to her full height, despite still being dwarfed by his, and said coldly, "I'm not one of your groupies, there for your convenience who opens her legs on your command. If you ever touch me again, I will end you. Do you understand me?"_

_"No," he said simply. "Do you?"_

_Elsa glared at him. He was smirking again. "I understand this, Mr. Drummond. You are going to die if you don't start thinking with your head instead of your-" She stopped abruptly. She couldn't help her gaze sliding down his body and that wasn't a place she should be looking or referring to in any way. She looked back up at his face and was furious to see that he had followed the path of her eyes and was struggling not to laugh. She could not believe how stupid he was being and how stupid she was in allowing it. Dismiss him and get on with her job. That was what she was trying to do. Why was he making it so hard? And that was the wrong word to choose, damn it!_

_"You know, Elsa," he said, "if I may call you Elsa now that we've swapped spit, there's nothing wrong with two people-"_

_"No," she said firmly. "You do not get to finish that sentence. It's over." He was shaking his head but she ignored it. She barged past him and marched to the door, wrenching it open. "Good-bye!"_

_She slammed the door shut behind her, causing a deep echo through the church. There was no one there and she ran the length of it to reach the door to the street. Once outside she started walking, not stopping until she was a mile away and in sight of Sallis's apartment building. She couldn't go there, not yet. However long it had been, she needed to recover herself. Elsa looked around. There was a café on the corner where she sometimes stopped so she retired there, buying a drink and finding a quiet table away from the windows._

_Breathing hard, she let herself relax until her pulse slowed and her nausea passed. She could mouth off at Drumm all she liked, it didn't change the basics. She was attracted to him. She had genuinely believed that she would never feel simple lust again and as much as anything else, it was the shock of discovering it wasn't true that had turned her into a jellified facsimile of herself. It made no sense to suddenly have feelings for Drumm. He was an idiotic clumsy bear. There was nothing about him she admired. He was handsome, she'd give him that, but handsome guys were two a penny in her experience. He was stubborn and there was a dignity in that, but he was dumb with it, nothing worth respecting. He was irritating, he didn't know what he was doing and he was going to get them both killed if he didn't stop. _

_"Yet, I don't want him to stop. I want him to-" Whether it was the long months of loneliness, the thrill of the danger of it or sheer unadulterated lust, Elsa knew in the moment of that kiss, she wanted more. Elsa shook her head, screaming at herself to stop it. Nothing mattered more than finishing the job she started. She could not let herself be distracted. Surely she'd made that clear. He wouldn't pester her again. Right?_

_Wrong. She knew as sure as she knew that night followed day that Drumm was not going to let go, at least not until he found out who killed his brother. That's all it was for him. That and lust. The lust, she got, oh boy, did she get._

_"Shit!" _

+...+

_"Good-bye!"_

_Drumm stared at the door once it slammed shut behind her. He took three deep breaths despite the discomfort. She was too intoxicating and he needed to force in the fresh air to clear his lungs of the choke of heady incense. He wanted her, he wanted her badly. There was no denying it. She was so much more than she let on. He thought he could read her to an extent but he knew he was nowhere near working her out. Why was she with Sallis? It made no sense._

_He wasn't sure what made him do it. Something about the way she'd frozen made him want to protect her. Since he'd wanted to kiss her from the moment he saw her, he made the most of the opportunity. Her mouth was a powerful magnet, drawing him in. She tasted like some fruit, sweet and ripe, and of sunshine and lazy passion. Whether from the shock of it or by deliberate choice, her lips were apart and he gently stroked the tongue inside with his own. She'd responded. She couldn't deny that. She'd responded with her tongue and she'd responded with her body. She'd stopped struggling, pressing against him, standing on the extreme tips of her toes and he'd lifted her off her feet to bring her closer. It had seemed a long kiss, even though it couldn't have lasted longer than seconds, but it was full of promise. _

_He laughed out loud as he replayed the lecture, despite the throbbing pain she'd meted out with it. She was so offended! At herself, he reckoned, more than at him. She shouldn't have responded if she didn't want him to mess up her life. Now, it's all he wanted to do. He wouldn't feel that way about a groupie; chalk and cheese. She wasn't anything like a groupie. She was very different, different like wanting to get money together to get out of the squat and wanting to settle down had been different. He didn't want a groupie. He wanted her and she was no-_

_Drumm's mind stopped in its tracks. "How the hell did she know?" Frantically, he went back over their meetings. It was hard to believe that this was only their third one but it was and he remembered the first two pretty clearly, despite the pain medication in his system during the second. He'd never said anything about Pandemic. He was sure of it. How the hell did she know that he was in a band? He hadn't played with them since they'd met. Had she been to a gig? No, he was certain he would have spotted her. Pandemic had a local reputation but they didn't draw crowds that could hide her radiance. None of their posters named the individual members. Had she checked up on him, somehow, somewhere? And if she had, why?_

_Drumm looked around the garden. There was a small bench against the outer wall and he hobbled over to it, still stinging like a nettle. He sank onto the bench, his back resting against the climbing ivy. He wasn't feeling so cocky now. He was feeling, what? Betrayed? Disappointed? Impressed? He wasn't sure at all except for knowing that he was highly disconcerted._

_He got that she was resourceful. He got that she could have read the papers, learned about Theo's death and noted the time and location of the funeral so she could turn up. He got that she could have overheard Sallis and his goons discuss the night they played soccer using Drumm's head as the ball so she could show up at the hospital. This? He didn't get. Maybe one of the girls at the Pink Leopard had recognised him and told her but that would have been one mighty big coincidence. No. He didn't get it at all and it made him suspicious. That was not how he wanted to feel._

_Drumm closed his eyes and leaned back further, tapping the wall with his head. He had no choice. He couldn't trust her until he understood what she was about, really understood. It was all smoke and mirrors now and for all he knew, so was she. For all he knew, she had researched him because she had something to do with Theo's death and was keeping track of him. He really didn't like that idea. He sighed. He was as distracted by her as he thought she was by him. He couldn't check up on her. He'd be inclined to think the best and with a woman like her, one who was fine with sleeping with a thug like Sallis, it was dangerous. He needed help. _

_Drumm rose from the bench and made for the door. He licked his lips. Was it cherry or strawberries?_

+...+

_The office was empty except for Sid. He was standing in the middle of the room, staring down at a thick wad of paperwork. He looked as distressed as Drumm had seen him since Theo's death. He raced over to the old man and put his arm around his shoulder, staring down at whatever it was that had turned Sid to stone. _

_"What it is?" Drumm asked, fearing the response. Sid sighed._

_"We've been served." Dour and ashen, Sid twisted his head around to look up at Drumm. On closer inspection, Drumm thought he looked more disappointed than upset. Sid turned, shaking off Drumm's arm and handed him the paperwork before heading for his desk and sinking down onto the chair. _

_Drumm read slowly. Lisa was suing for the agency. She was alleging that Drumm, contrary to the provision in Theo's will, had taken drugs since Theo's death. Thurlow had obviously talked to her because she gave accurate details of Drumm's purchase of the heroin. Drumm had bought the heroin. He'd thrown it down the toilet but who was going to believe an ex-addict? He was going to lose the agency._

_"Shit!" _

* * *

**My dearest readers, **

**I really would be grateful to see your responses to this chapter, whether you love it or hate it. It includes a key story point and while your reaction won't affect where I'm going, it could influence how I get there. **

**Yours, in gratitude, the author.**


	13. We Better Talk This Over

**The _Glee_ characters belong to _Glee_, the rest of the characters belong to me. This story is improved no end by wood-u-like-2-no's contribution as beta and soundboard. **

**Conceit: Chapter titles are song titles. This one is off my favourite Bob Dylan album, _Street Legal_. According to any music critic you ask, that choice of favourite Bob Dylan album makes me a philistine.**

**+...+**

**Chapter Thirteen: We Better Talk This Over**

**New York, 2013**

It was 2am when there was a soft knock. Rachel, still wearing the dress she'd donned when she was happy, abandoned all caution, ran to the door and pulled it open. He was standing there, wet and shivering. She grabbed his hand and led him inside. She pushed him into the bathroom and was relieved to hear the shower going a moment later.

He came out wearing a towel around his waist. Without a word, he searched his bag for some jeans, a shirt and a t-shirt. She watched him dress from the couch. When he'd finished, he sat on the one chair in the room, opposite her. She waited for him to speak.

"I get that it was your decision. I really do. It's hard that I don't have the right to get a say in it but that's how it is. I don't have to like it, but I do get that. What I can't understand, what blows my mind, is that you didn't tell me, that you made this decision about our-" He choked and closed his eyes. Rachel could see the tears run down his cheeks. He coughed and tried again. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Rachel's lower lip wobbled. She had been crying since he'd left and her face was puffy and red. She struggled to get out the words. "I made up my mind, Finn. I couldn't have a baby now. There was NYADA, the summer job-"

"Summer job?" Finn asked sharply.

"It-it was going to be a surprise. Tonight. I was taking you to see it, _The Music Man_. I'm going to be Amaryllis, just-just over the summer. I thought you'd be proud of me."

"Proud of you? You aborted our child for a role?" His strangled whisper was pierced her deeper than any scream or shout could have.

"No, that's not what I meant. I mean, yes, I didn't want to give _The Music Man_ up. It was the perfect opportunity but it wasn't the only reason. I just meant that with everything, with that and NYADA and you overseas, it would have been impossible. You have to see that."

Finn took a deep breath. "Maybe we could have come up with other ideas but, yeah, I kinda understand why you decided to have the abortion. I just don't understand why you didn't tell me, why we couldn't at least talk about it before…." He shook his head. "It's like, it's like I didn't matter, like our relationship didn't matter."

"Of course you matter! You're the most important thing in the world to me but you might have talked me out of it," she wailed, crying harder. "And-and once I'd decided, if you were against it, it would have hurt you so much. I didn't want to hurt you. I thought it was better that you didn't know. I destroyed all the correspondence. I don't understand how that letter…" She tried to catch a breath between the sobs. "I didn't want to lose you and I didn't want to lose this chance. Please try and understand!"

"Make me understand, Rachel! Help me! We made a baby together; we don't get to make the decision on what happens to it together? Worse, you don't even think I deserved to know?"

Rachel was getting more and more defensive. She could recognise it and she knew it wasn't going to help. This was exactly what she'd wanted to avoid. _This_ was exactly why she hadn't told him. "It was for your own good!" Finn stared at her as if she was insane. Rachel's temper rose. "Don't look at me like that, you hypocrite! You're the one who pretended to drive me to my wedding and instead broke our engagement and put me on a train! For my own good," she added bitterly.

"That was different! Your dads and I were trying to stop you from deferring. And we were right! God, Rachel! This role you had the abor-" Finn stopped himself and started again. "This part that means so much to you, you'd never have gotten it if we hadn't done that!"

"And if I'd told you about the baby, maybe you would have ganged up on me again to prevent me having the abortion!" She'd never actually thought that at the time she was making her decision but it worked for her now. Getting defensive meant scoring points even if it made her despise herself for doing it. She could always better him in an argument when she tried, on the intellectual side anyway.

"I wouldn't have…" Finn trailed off. He didn't have an answer to that she thought with a trace of satisfaction. He looked away from her. Rachel hated the sense of loss she felt with just that tiny gesture of withdrawal. She followed Finn's gaze to the dark window. She could see the city lights reflect nine-fold through the warped glass. Finn shook his head. There was something else; she could see it in his face. She waited. He was hesitating and she grew more and more frightened. She'd win on smarts but he usually won on heart.

"Okay," he finally said. "That might be a reason for not telling me, a really lousy reason actually, but there's another reason I thought of and I-I have to know." He chewed his lip. Rachel was ready to explode when he said it. "Was the baby mine?"

Rachel snapped. She'd had nightmares for months about the decision from which she'd protected him when what she really needed was to cry in his arms over it. How dare he? How dare he run out and leave her here for hours, wondering if he had gone psycho on somebody and got himself killed. It all boiled up and she couldn't bear it. She stood up and slapped him hard across the face.

"How could you possibly ask me that? How dare you think that? I've done everything for you, including surrender our life together, accepting this part-time pale imitation of it to prove your faith in my talent. How dare you not have the same faith in me?" She marched to the bedroom, slammed the door shut and cried herself to sleep.

When she awoke, he was gone.

+...+

**Hollywood, 2024**

There was nothing cathartic about it. Rachel had read somewhere that reliving your traumatic moments was a healthy thing. She didn't believe it then, she had proof it was baloney now, and whoever wrote it was an asshole. She didn't feel better. She just felt empty. Finn was right. It didn't change a damn thing. She'd done what she'd done; he'd done what he'd done. All talking did was re-open old wounds, wounds that were so deep that they hadn't developed scar tissue, even after eleven years.

"What happened in the trailer with Finn after John and Amy left?"

Rachel looked up and saw Quinn. She'd almost forgotten she was there, so completely had she immersed herself in her past. Quinn was pale. Rachel remembered that Quinn had pretty strong religious views and that she probably disapproved of abortion but she was too exhausted to care. Rachel shook her head and mouthed "Tomorrow." Quinn didn't stop her as Rachel rose from the couch and made her way to the bedroom.

Rachel didn't take off her clothes. She didn't even kick off her shoes. She fell onto the bed, settled on her back and stared at the ceiling.

_What happened in the trailer? He told me he hates me._

+...+

Rachel and Finn didn't need to actually talk about their past in the trailer. They relived it with just a glance. The weight of it was oppressive but nothing that could help them was to be found there. Reliving it all would be torture for both of them. It changed nothing. She'd had an abortion without telling him. He didn't trust her to be faithful. Both right, both wrong, both feeling so betrayed that they couldn't go on together. They'd had one telephone conversation after it happened, after the self-absorption in anger made way for sorrow. They'd agreed that they couldn't recover and to split up, a decision made easier by being on different sides of the world. Rachel had genuinely thought that they'd successfully moved on yet here they were, struggling with being face to face daily having to pretend to fall in love.

"I should quit and go back to New York," Rachel said. It was the only path she could see open to her and to the production.

Finn looked up at her, stricken. "No," he said, "Rachel, no. That's not right. It would sink the project which would be unfair on Ben and everyone else who's worked so hard. We can't let old mistakes screw up everything for them. We have to find another way. There has to _be_ another way. We've got to work this out together."

Rachel didn't react to the dig, if that's what it was. Finn had never been great at considering how words carelessly chosen could hurt. If it was a dig, it was deserved. She looked down at her hands. They were shaking. She must have been wringing them because all the blood had been pushed out of her fingers. Rachel looked back at Finn. He had his thinking face on. There was a time she thought it was adorable. She wondered almost idly if she should be alarmed that she still did.

Finn took a deep breath. "Did you ever have to do a romantic scene with someone you didn't like, someone you didn't like so much they actually repelled you?"

Miserable at his choice of analogy, Rachel nodded. At NYADA in her junior year, she was cast as Audrey in an updated production of _Little Shop of Horrors_. The guy who got Seymour was odious and had been trailing after her in the halls of the campus for months before the play was even cast. He was like Jacob Ben-Israel gone psycho and she'd hidden to avoid his attentions on more than one occasion. He'd somehow upped his game at the auditions because he was not usually a shining star compared to many at the college. His natural creepiness gave him the edge.

"How did you deal with it?" Finn asked.

"I, uh, I imagined he was," she said slowly, pausing, "I imagined he was someone else. I mean, he was, of course, he was Seymour, but I imagined him as someone else playing Seymour, if that makes sense. It sort of worked although it was touch and go for the bedroom scene the director insisted on adding." Rachel shuddered at the memory.

"Well, maybe that's what you have to do now. Imagine me as that someone else playing Drumm."

There was an obvious reason why that wasn't going to work but Rachel nodded anyway. Her acting must have been terrible because Finn was watching and, clearly unconvinced, he furrowed his brow at her.

"Remember our first Sectionals?" he asked. "How I bailed because of, you know, Quinn and everything? I came back because Mr. Schu reminded me that no matter how much it sucks, when others are relying on you, you have to give it your best shot, whether it's what you want or not. Others are relying on us now and whatever tricks we can find, we have to use them, yeah?"

"Yeah, you're right," she agreed. She was so drained that she would have agreed to anything. Whether he meant to or not, he'd said working with her was the same as working with someone who disgusted him. The air in the trailer had become hot and stifling. She was struggling to breath and she needed to get out, to go home and break down in peace. She frantically searched around for something, for anything that would reassure him enough so she could leave. "I think I know what it was," she finally said, "the reason we screwed up today is that we just weren't prepared. We had so much baggage and we thought it was behind us so we went into it blind. It was the first real test and we didn't know it was a test, so we failed. The re-test is tomorrow and now we know that it is a t-test, we can study, you know, prepare properly. Our characters… I love Elsa. I know I can do her justice."

Finn was nodding. She had the feeling he'd had enough too and wanted to end this as much as she did but that he was so committed to doing his leadership thing that he was prepared to press on regardless. She sent him a silent plea with her eyes.

He got it. "Okay," he said, "yeah. You're probably right. It will be better tomorrow. We have to make sure or else…"

"Or else I go back to New York and you find a new Elsa." Rachel stood and made for the door of the trailer. "I'm beat. If I've got to sparkle tomorrow, I need my beauty sleep. I-I'll see you tomorrow… George."

"George?"

"That's who I imagined was playing Seymour," she lied. "Even though Clooney was way too old, can't sing a note and would have been entirely wrong for the character."

Finn smiled. "So, okay, uh, Scarlet, I'll see you tomorrow. New day."

+...+

Tomorrow was better. Finn knew it from the moment they started that they'd each managed to find what they needed to give Elsa and Drumm the honesty the story deserved. Better yet, they got it in one take and the reverse which pleased Finn no end. Rachel went method on his nads and the cup he was wearing offered less protection than he'd hoped. He wasn't acting when he doubled over.

"Brilliant!" John yelled. "Absolutely perfect!"

The good-humoured crew, including, unusually for a location shoot, Amy, had cheered and Rachel and Finn took exaggerated bows even though it brought fresh tears to Finn's eyes. Finn had announced before they started filming that he was throwing a John's-last-day wrap party that night to thank their director of the first three episodes and to make up to everyone for being such an asshole the day before. Puck had been up all night organizing it once Finn had called him from the trailer. He didn't speculate how Puck had managed to secure the hottest nightclub in LA for it. With Puck, it was usually better not to ask how he achieved his miracles.

Once the cheers died away and the crew started packing up, Finn turned to Rachel and put his hand on her shoulder. "Good job," he said, meaning it.

She looked up at him and beamed. "You too," she said. "Sorry about the, uh…"

Finn laughed. "Well, I won't be able to use them any time soon but, you know, the things we do for art."

Rachel turned serious. "We're going to be okay, right?"

Finn looked down at her, her eyes wide and hopeful. "Yeah," he said, drawing her in for a hug. "We're gonna be okay. I don't know what you did but I just cut out the middle man, uh, woman."

She pulled back and gazed up at him curiously. He smirked impishly before disengaging and turning towards his trailer. He called out as he stepped slowly and carefully away. "See you later, Elsa."

+...+

"Hey, Rachel."

Rachel was walking towards her trailer to take off her costume when a female voice hailed her from behind. She turned and saw Amy. It made her nervous.

"That was great, well done," Amy said. Rachel breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. Amy came closer, speaking more softly. "Do you mind if we have a private word?"

Rachel's smile faded a little as she nodded and showed Amy into her trailer. It wasn't as big or as comfortable as Finn's but it was roomy enough for her. Amy took a seat at the end table and waited for Rachel to change. Rachel wondered if she was about to get fired. She changed quickly but made a special effort to look her best. If she was going, she was going in style. Ready or not, she sat down opposite Amy.

"Rachel, you need to know that yesterday's problems have had ramifications."

She was getting fired. Rachel drew down to her depths to grab onto what she needed to prevent herself tearing up. She prided herself on being able to cry at a moment's notice. Being able to not cry took more out of her.

"Relax," Amy said. "You're not being fired. We knew things could get difficult on set. It's never much fun to have exes working together and that's why it's usually avoided." Amy grimaced. "For whatever reason, some people at the network don't follow perceived wisdom." Rachel didn't need to ask to know Amy was referring to Wally Worth. Amy continued, "However, the delays and costs of yesterday got back to the money people and they have a very different take on it. They've asked the writers to come up with some contingency plans, to be able to write you out at short notice and beef up Quinn as a love interest. They're not demanding we implement them. HBO is usually pretty good about not interfering, but I thought you should know. Stuff tends to leak out of the writers' room." Rachel nodded dejectedly.

"The important thing is not to panic if you hear rumours. Once they see today's work, I'm pretty sure we're going to quell their concerns and get back to what we want to do." Amy was watching her reaction carefully but with sympathy. Rachel nodded again. There wasn't really anything to say.

Amy rose and opened the trailer door. She paused to lay a hand on Rachel's shoulder and give it a squeeze. Rachel wondered if she'd picked up the habit from Finn. "And seriously," Amy said, "good job. You two really are very good together."

"We always were," Rachel said softly as Amy shut the door behind her.

**Drumm: Chapter Thirteen**

_Cliff was more laid back than Drumm thought was appropriate in the circumstances. He was the executor of Theo's will and he was being sued, for Christ's sake. He should at least look like it mattered._

_"You don't have to convince me, Drumm. I don't care if you snorted coke off the belly of a beached whale and spent next three days doing the sand samba with the entire population of Miss Prism's School for Gentle Ladies just so long as I don't have to look at pictures of it. All I care about is whether or not Lisa can prove you took drugs some time after Theo's death. She can't and, as executor, I have said so. It's up to the court now." Cliff frowned. "You ought to know that the decision is on the balance of probabilities and, as you have cleverly worked out for yourself, you being an ex-addict could be problematic."_

_"Tell me what I can do then!"_

_Cliff held up a palm, stopping him. "No can do, kid. I may not be the pillar of respectable society that I should be but my one job as executor is to play fair with all the beneficiaries, including the fragrant Lisa. I can't advise you, for example, that it's not a slam dunk because she's only got evidence you bought it, not that you took it. Or that maybe you should get your band friend to testify to what happened in your apartment or that if all the people at the funeral give evidence you weren't high the judge might buy it or that you should find some dirt on Lisa or on her drug-dealer friend that she'll have to produce. You need another lawyer to give you that sort of advice. He or she might even tell you not to admit to buying the drugs in the first place." Cliff shrugged._

_Drumm stared at him and grinned. He turned and marched out of the office. Cliff yelled after him, "Sorry I couldn't help!" _

+...+

_Drumm was sitting at the bar, watching Pandemic run through their set. They didn't sound good. Drumm couldn't work out if Johnny, shouting out obscenities at the restive audience, was high or just being an asshole. Those two things weren't mutually exclusive. He was probably both although Mags seemed more out of it, staring at the ceiling and playing something from Tangerine Dream which would have been great if the rest of the band weren't doing Joy Division. Bill, his replacement, was doing his best but Drumm didn't envy him or blame him for looking embarrassed. Drumm'd been away too long. He downed his beer and fingered the piece of paper in his pocket._

_Wow, Drumm thought, a couple of hours and no thoughts about Elsa Cannotti. He tried to imagine her up on stage with the band. It defeated him. She was torch songs and old movies. Pandemic was, on tonight's effort at least, discord and vomit. He booed loudly, getting Johnny's attention. Drumm gave him the finger with a grin. Johnny didn't bother to interrupt the song with invective but he did return with his own favourite and very graphic gesture, the one usually accompanied with the word "wanker." Drumm was uncomfortable at realising that he was smiling at it because he was seeing Elsa giving him the hand job. It struck him that he didn't like being crude about her, even in his head._

_He felt the piece of paper again and wondered for the umpteenth time if this was a good idea. Drumm had a picture of the fourteen-year-old Sally Strong but he couldn't be absolutely certain that he would recognise the woman she had become. If he went to the address on his own, whether it was the right Sally or not, he might scare her into running which would get him nowhere. Taking Jack with him would mean that they could at least be sure one way or the other. The problem was that it meant raising and maybe dashing Jack's hopes in one fell swoop. Jack was his friend. He didn't want him hurt._

_Lise-Marie was the next to spot Drumm from the stage and he waved at her. She'd smiled and shrugged, not missing a note on her lead. She'd back him up, he was sure of it. She'd been with him the night he'd bought the heroin. She knew he hadn't taken it that night or the next morning before she left and she knew he was not high at the funeral. Lise-Marie polished up real good when she wanted to. She'd have the judge eating out of her hand. Drumm had to keep thinking that. Otherwise he'd have to think about Sid, Alyssa and Mitch out of work and himself out of work, a home and the chance to find Theo's murderer. No, he said firmly to himself. Even if Lisa got it all, he wasn't going to stop looking for the bastard that killed his brother._

_Drumm ordered six bottles of beer and waited for the band to join him when the gig finished. Bill came over first._

_"Hey, Bill, good to see you, man," Drumm said, handing over a beer. Bill grabbed it, opened his mouth and let the liquid pour down his throat. He didn't stop until it was empty. "Whoa!" Finn said. "That bad, eh?"_

_"You've no idea," Bill said darkly. "It's been like trying to babysit a kindergarten class. How do you put up with it?" Drumm shrugged and shook his head. "Please tell me you're back and I can get out of here?"_

_"Sorry," Drumm said with a grimace, holding up his hand. The splint had come off one finger but still protected the second. "Another week, maybe. Think you can hold out?" Bill's answer was swallowed by the arrival of Johnny and Mags and Bill escaped down to the other end of the bar. _

_Johnny punched Drumm in the arm with a "What'cha cock," and grabbed two bottles. "I'll take hers. She's had enough." Mags, smiling sweetly, walked up to Drumm, kissed him on the cheek and took a bottle from the counter. She was followed quickly by Lise-Marie. Johnny passed Lise-Marie the extra beer in his hand on a glare from Drumm before following Mags who had wandered off in the direction of the exit. _

_Drumm gave Lise-Marie a hug. She stayed in his arms but pulled back and looked up at him carefully. "How are you?"_

_"I'm doing okay, cherie. A few bumps and bruises, you know, but otherwise, I'm fine." She was tracing the last of the fading bruises, the one that marked the fracture in his skull over one eye. She nodded and leaned up to kiss him. What he returned was brotherly and she raised one brow quizzically. "It's been a long day, hon. I need a favour. Are you still at the squat?"_

_"Yeah, for now." He heard a plaintive tone. _Uh-oh._ She'd expected him to ask her to move in, he realised suddenly, his heart sinking at how that might complicate getting her to stand up for him. He couldn't deal with it now and kissed the top of her head instead. "I need to talk to Jack but I'll swing by tomorrow if that's okay." _

_"Sure," she said, pouting. An approaching fan in a Pandemic T-shirt gave Drumm the chance to slip away. _

_Taking the last two beers up to the stage, Drumm found Jack putting his guitar in its case. He looked miserable. _

_"That was an interesting performance, man," Drumm said, holding out one of the bottles to Jack before taking a sip from his own. "I think you're missing me." Jack took the bottle wearily and drank deep. He really did look exhausted. "What's going on, Jack?"_

_Jack shook his head. "With the band? Usual stuff. Johnny and Mags fighting, Lise-Marie thinking about other things. Bill's doing his best but he's not you. As for me…" He tailed off._

_"Is everything okay?"_

_Jack ran his hand over his head. "No, it's my mom. She had a stroke last week. I had to fly home and we didn't get much time to sort out for tonight, you know?"_

_Drumm reached out and hugged Jack, patting him on the back. "I'm sorry about your mom."_

_"Yeah, me too. I mean, she'll be okay. It was a mild stroke and she should recover but it scared the shit out of everybody, especially my dad and he's already had one heart attack. I just wish I had some good news for them about Sally. It would make everything easier."_

_"Listen, Jack. That's why I'm here. I may have something on Sally. There was a girl called Sally Prior at the club until about six weeks ago. I don't know that it's your sister but I got a lead on her address. I'm going to check it out tomorrow. I don't want to get your hopes up too much but I thought you should know."_

_Jack's wide eyes were full of hope and Drumm lost some of his confidence in his decision to tell Jack about Elsa's lead. Had he just made a big mistake? Jack grabbed him and hugged him tightly._

_"Oh, man! Drumm, that's-that's great!"_

_Drumm tried to reduce his expectations. "Remember, it may not be her, you know? And she may not even be there but…" Drumm paused, praying he wasn't about to make things worse. "You wanna come with me?"_

+...+

_Captain Christopher Thurlow did not enjoy those times when his talents weren't appreciated, even if he was too shrewd to let it show. He even held back from making faces that couldn't be observed._

_"Yes," he said into the phone, "he has other things to worry about now. Soon, he won't have the resources to cause any trouble for you." He listened to the response, shaking his head. "No, I was subtle. He has no reason to connect my visit to you."_

_Thurlow would admit he was weary of it but only to himself. He'd been as close to honest as he was capable of in what he'd said to Drumm: friends in high places were important. Drumm was naïve and wouldn't understand that the high places weren't reserved for angels. There were mountains in hell after all. A man who discriminated based on morals was a man who failed to make the most of his opportunities. Christopher Thurlow was not such a man._

_"The important thing," he said to his caller, "is not to panic. If he starts sniffing around that, we can deal with it then. Either he doesn't know what he has or he doesn't have it. If he did, you'd know by now." Thurlow was using his most beguiling voice to be reassuring. He was having limited success._

_"Obviously, I cannot advise that. If you did, there would be consequences and it could be hard to control where it goes. Also, we don't know how much he's told the rest of them. Drummond played things close to his chest. His brother is just learning the ropes. He's going to be sharing a lot more. I apologize if I am repeating myself but my best advice is to do nothing. When he loses the agency, it will be over. I've already spoken to Theo's widow. She will shut it down for us." Thurlow didn't add that he and Lisa Drummond went way back. _

_The voice on the other end finally stopped. "It's your decision, of course, but you know what I think," Thurlow said. "I will speak to you soon." He put down the receiver, a thoughtful look on his face. If he wasn't careful, this could blow up on him. One of the most useful skills he had developed over the years was knowing when the time was right to design an exit strategy that kept him clean. It was probably that time right about now. _

+...+

_Drumm hadn't opened every book. He'd checked behind them and under them but it seemed too fanciful to think Theo had hollowed one out to accommodate a file on Thurlow. None looked big enough. Drumm cocked his head to read the titles. He and his brother did not share tastes. Drumm was more science fiction and fantasy, Asimov and Tolkein with a side order of Mickey Spillane whereas Theo aspired to literature. None of the titles triggered in Drumm the sort of connection that he'd found with Washington and Montana. He sighed. He was going to have to open every book._

_He was reaching for the first when there was a soft knock at the door. Drumm, barefoot and shirtless, padded over to it and checked the eyehole. Frowning, he opened the door to Sophie Cantor. Her eyes raked down his body with an intensity that Drumm could feel. This woman with Sophie Cantor's face was no ice queen. This woman was hot and urgent. She reached out for Drumm and pressed against his chest, wrapping her arms around his back. He enfolded her in a response as automatic as Pavlov's salivating dog and marvelled at the warm liquid trailing down his chest. Sophie Cantor was crying._

* * *

**Reviews gratefully received._  
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	14. Puppet on a String

**The _Glee_ characters belong to _Glee_, the rest of the characters belong to me. This story is improved no end by wood-u-like-2-no's contribution as beta and soundboard. **

**Conceit: Chapter titles are song titles. There are a few songs that share this title but I'm thinking of Sandie Shaw, bare feet and Eurovision. **

**+...+**

**Chapter Fourteen: Puppet on a String**

Rachel noted that Quinn's trailer was identical to hers except that Quinn had not personalised hers much. Rachel thought Quinn still hadn't quite accepted that she could finally put down roots after five years of lean living in shabby places. There were some fresh flowers, a few unlit candles and some books, but that was all. Rachel had draped her wall with pink gauze and filled the space with stuffed animals, theatre posters and framed photographs.

After Amy had left her trailer, Rachel had sat alone for an hour before being forced to rouse by the crew responsible for getting the trailer back to the studio. Rachel was off for the rest of the day but in her fretting, she'd come up with an idea. She just wasn't sure if it was a good idea and she wanted to talk it over with Quinn. Quinn was back at the studio for the afternoon, doing a quick insert for the scene with Finn set in Sophie's apartment, the scene where there had been so much trouble with the lighting. Rachel had known she should really wait until later to talk to her friend, when Quinn was home, but she was too anxious for patience.

When Rachel had arrived at the studio, Finn and Quinn were already filming. Rachel had watched for a while, jealous of their easy camaraderie. Finn had no problem acting with her, Rachel had thought. _Why does he have such a problem with me?_ Rachel hadn't cared to pursue the question any more and had walked to Quinn's trailer and taken a seat on the steps, waiting for her friend to appear. It wasn't a long wait. Quinn let her in before going to the back room to change.

"You okay for a while, to talk?" she asked as Quinn came out.

"We're done," Quinn said. "If you like, we can go home. We need to get ready for the party tonight." Rachel didn't respond and Quinn added softly, "Finn said it went really well this morning."

Rachel shook her head. "No," she said. "No to going home now, I mean. But yes, it went well this morning with the added bonus that I got to knee him in the groin, twice. We had to take a bow." Rachel gave a smile, unable to resist the opportunity to bathe for a moment in satisfaction and glory. The smile vanished quickly though when she remembered that she'd left Quinn hanging the night before. "Um," Rachel started, "you asked me what happened in my trailer last night and I didn't…"

"It's okay, Rachel, you really don't have to tell me."

"No, I want to," Rachel said quickly. "It's just kind of mortifying." With that, Rachel gave Quinn an account of the conversation with Finn. Unusually for her, she didn't embellish. "So, that's it," she said morosely in conclusion. "He hates me."

"Rachel, I don't think Finn was saying he hates you. You know how he is with words when he doesn't have a song or a script. His foot was in his mouth more often than a toothbrush, remember? I think he was just saying that it was a technique to get past… you know, the past."

"Maybe," Rachel said, still a little sceptical. "Whatever it was, it worked for him so I can't really complain."

"And what worked for you?"

Rachel shrugged. "Fear, I think. I don't want to lose this job. I was lucky that for Elsa there was more anger than flirting. Anger I can channel. It's what's going to happen when we have to be intimate that terrifies me." Rachel looked over at her housemate. Quinn still hadn't sat down and was simply staring down at her with raised eyebrows. Rachel couldn't tell what was going on behind Quinn's eyes. "Quinn, I realised that what I told you last night about the-, that maybe, maybe you'd hate me too. I mean, I know that you're religious and that _you_ didn't have an abortion and you probably think I'm going to hell or something…." Rachel trailed off.

Quinn shook her head. "It's not my place to disapprove, Rachel. The only decisions I'm in a position to judge are my own and I've made some pretty poor ones over the years."

"But you don't regret not having an abortion in high school."

"No," Quinn said firmly. "No, I don't regret that. It was never an option for me. You're right, Rachel, I believe that abortion is wrong and I could never ever have one. But I also believe even more strongly that it's not my right to dictate what other people do or what they believe. I don't hate you for having an abortion."

Rachel sighed and smiled. "Good," she said with relief. "I didn't even think about how it would make you feel until later. I've held onto it for so long, I never told my dads or anybody. My therapist got so mad at me for hiding something that I had to stop going. Last night, it just came gushing out like a burst dam. Once I started, I couldn't stop. I'm glad you're okay with it. And now you know."

Quinn rubbed Rachel's back a little as she said softly, "Now I know and I'm sorry for both of you." She finally sat down opposite Rachel. "So, where are you going that you don't want to go home?"

"Oh, right." Rachel was startled at being forced out of her reverie to recall the reason she'd wanted to talk to Quinn in the first place. "Right," she repeated, uncertain how to proceed. Quinn frowned at her and Rachel shook off her confusion. "Finn, um, scenes with Finn. Love scenes, I mean. I think they are going to be harder than hard." Quinn snorted which resurrected Rachel's confusion. _Why was that funny? There's nothing funny about being overwhelmed by memories and feelings._ She decided to ignore it and pressed on. "So I had this idea." Quinn raised her brows in anticipation. Rachel was fast losing confidence in the wisdom of her notion even as she wondered how best to express it. She decided to be direct.

"I need a boyfriend."

+...+

"Puck!"

"What!"

The response was faint. In a big house, shouting was pretty much futile but none of them ever let that stop them trying. Finn sighed, looking down at the scribbled note on the hall table that made no sense.

_Finn. 10am at CM, bring spt. _

Finn had the next day off as Mary McCormick, the new director, wasn't due to start until the day after. This looked like he was needed somewhere and he cursed. He was hoping to find a new marina for the boat. Puck hadn't made an appearance and Finn would have to go find him. He considered calling him but mocked his own laziness. He'd refused to have an intercom system installed for much the same reason, despite Puck's pleading. Taking the stairs two at a time, he made his way to Puck's enclave. He banged on the door. "Can I come in?"

"Yep," Puck shouted. Finn opened the door that led to Puck's sitting room. It was large and eclectic, leading out through glass doors to the large balcony. Finn shuddered as he always did at the purple and orange decor.

"Where are you?"

"Here," said Puck, entering the room from his equally large bedroom. He was dressed for a night on the town, wearing jeans and a black leather jacket. The way Finn could tell that the get-up was different from day wear was by Puck's Led Zepplin 2018 Tour T-shirt which only came out on special occasions.

"You're eager," Finn said, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm going down early. You don't think I'm gonna trust those bozos to get everything right, do you?"

Finn smiled. Puck was careless about many things, particularly women, but he always took pride in his jobs. Finn held out the message. "Before you go, I need to you to translate."

Puck glanced at the scrap of paper. "What? Can't you read, bro? It's obvious." Finn was staring at him sceptically. "You," Puck said patiently, pointing at him as if explaining to a child, "need to be at Chateau Marmont at ten tomorrow. Take your scripts. You're reading with actresses." Finn was confused. All the parts had been cast and Ben had said nothing about the writers coming up with a new character.

"Oh, yeah," Puck added, seeing Finn's face. "I didn't bother to write that down. Alison whatever her name is had to drop out at the last minute."

"Shit!" Finn said angrily. "Alison Varnay is awesome. I really wanted to work with her."

"Well, yeah, she is pretty hot." Puck tended to ignore acting ability when assessing actresses. He could have been an agent. "I'm sure they'll have some replacements just as smokin'." Puck mistook the reason for Finn's frown. "Hey, it's just auditions; shouldn't stop you having fun tonight. It won't matter if you have a hangover." He checked his watch. "I must go. See you there."

Puck raced out of the room and raced back in. "Oh yeah, one other thing. Kurt's coming into LAX tomorrow afternoon." He spun round and ran out again.

"What?" Finn hurried after him. His day off was going to pot. Puck was pounding down the stairs. "Without Blaine? Was Kurt okay? Puck!"

"Gotta go, bro," Puck shouted back, slamming the front door behind him.

+...+

"I don't think it's a bad idea in principle, Rachel," Quinn said, worried, "honestly. I'm just not sure that this is the best time or the place."

"I don't have time to go wining and dining, Quinn," Rachel wailed. "I need to get this done. I'm pretty sure that I've got scenes coming up that I'm going to fluff completely if I don't have someone-anyone to take my mind off it being Finn. I told you! I need a different face and body in my head."

Quinn shook her head. She'd been arguing with Rachel since they got home via a trendy boutique on Rodeo Drive. She had contemplated tackling Rachel on the real problem, which any fool could see was that she was still in love with Finn and he with her, but Rachel shut it down with a "That's nonsense" and would hear no more. Quinn had decided to go for the approach of one-step-at-a-time instead, the first being to persuade Rachel not to shit where she ate.

"What about Bradley? Isn't he your boyfriend?"

"Bradley and I were about to split up anyway," she'd said airily. "Besides, his bail conditions won't allow him to leave New York."

"Yes, but you must have had some feelings for him. Can't you imagine it's him or one of your other lovers?"

Rachel shook her head. "I didn't really connect with anybody that deeply. I mean, sure, I had great sex but once it was over, I didn't really think about them anymore. There isn't anyone including Bradley that I can conjure up with any enthusiasm. I need somebody in the moment whose face and body I can visualize clearly when I need to. Is that awful?"

As they were getting ready, Quinn had tried another angle, one based on the folly of getting involved with somebody on the set. "Rachel, what if it all goes pear-shaped? It could affect filming and make an already bad situation worse."

"That won't happen," Rachel had said with confidence. "I'll just make it clear from the start that I'm looking for something casual, for someone who will be fun and pretty and diverting. I don't want to be in love, I just want to be romanced by a sexy guy. Casual but passionate," Rachel had said with determination as she applied her lip gloss. Quinn had sighed and returned to her own preparations. Unlike Rachel, she wasn't dressing to kill.

Finally at the party, waiting for their wraps to be taken, Quinn was making one last-ditch effort to reign in Rachel's enthusiasm for finding a boyfriend amongst the cast and crew. "We have the day off tomorrow, Rachel. We can go out, chat up some guys…"

"I'm at home, on this set or in the studio eighteen hours a day, Quinn. The only place to meet somebody and see them from time to time is if they're here. Finn won't care. He hates me, remember?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. _It's like being back in high school._ They reached the cubicle and handed over their wraps. Quinn had dressed in a simple floral dress with a round neck, small collar and capped sleeves. The skirt was full, making it fun for dancing. She was wearing flat pumps. Quinn glanced at Rachel who, because of the five inch heels she was wearing, was taller than her for the first time ever.

The dress was designer, white, short, sparkling, and screamed "Fuck me!" It wasn't an expression that Quinn used often, even in her own head, but it was the most apt she could come up with. The beaded jersey clung to every curve and the plunging front and back left little to the imagination. It was a dress Quinn would never have worn in a million years. It was a dress Quinn would never have imagined the Rachel Berry from McKinley High wearing either.

Quinn heard the wolf whistle and spun around. Puck's eyes were popping out of his head as he stared at Rachel. "Wow," he said, "you dressed up this time."

Rachel curtsied with a grin. "My timing is perfect as ever. Casual when everybody else is in Sunday-best and formal when the rest of you are informal." Quinn marvelled at the appearance of the innocent ingénue making a fashion faux-pas which disguised the cunning calculation of the real woman beneath.

Puck kissed Rachel's cheek and turned to Quinn. "You are always perfect," he crooned, kissing her on the cheek also. Quinn shook her head at the flattery and watched with amusement as Puck's gaze was compelled to return to Rachel. Men were so easy to manipulate she thought with a silent scoff.

"Come on, ladies. I'll lead you to the alcohol, a must on these occasions. Then I'll introduce you some of the guys you haven't met yet." Puck linked his arms through theirs and prepared to march them into the room. Quinn disentangled herself.

"You go ahead. I need to go to the ladies' room. I'll catch up." She watched them walk away and then looked around, searching for Finn's tall figure. She spotted him by the stage and made her way over.

"Hey, Quinn." Finn hugged her. "I'm glad you came. Rachel with you?"

"Puck's taking her to the bar." Quinn paused, wondering why she was even contemplating what she was about to do. It wasn't her business but she wasn't a fan of those stupid situations where misunderstandings abounded that could be resolved by a simple conversation. "Did you tell Rachel you hate her?"

"What? No! What? When?" Finn looked shocked and confused.

"You probably should know she thinks you did last night."

+...+

Once Quinn explained it, he could see why Rachel felt the way she did. Finn thought she was being overly-sensitive personally – it was just an example of having to get over a barrier. He wasn't equating his feelings for her with the barrier itself. He kind of resented being made to feel a teenager again, clumsy with words. Finn sighed. He supposed he should go find her and apologize.

He found her by sound. Her laugh gurgled up from amidst a gaggle of guys. Finn drew closer and spotted her at the centre. He was taken aback by her appearance.

It wasn't the Rachel he knew, it was some stranger. He was reminded so strongly of the time she'd dressed up as sexy Sandy in _Grease_ that he staggered. He had told her then that she looked like a sad clown hooker. He couldn't talk to her now. He'd be sure to say something that really was offensive. Glancing at her entourage, he counted John Sullivan, a couple of the actors and at least five of the crew. She caught his eye as he turned and he couldn't hide from her the feeling overwhelming him. Disappointment.

**Drumm: Chapter Fourteen**

_Drumm pulled Sophie into the apartment and led her to the couch. She didn't want to let go and he had to pry her from his sides. Looking around, he saw his discarded shirt on the back of a chair. He grabbed it and slipped it on, not bothering to button it. He noticed that the woman had ceased her tears and was sitting silently, staring into space. Unsure what to do with her, he went into the kitchen. He didn't have wine, just beer, so he grabbed two bottles and a glass of water for good measure before returning to the lounge._

_She'd recovered somewhat by the time he took the seat next to her. Her face was dry and the tears left no mark. If he hadn't seen it for himself, he wouldn't have believed she was capable of that strong an emotion. She waved away the beer but took the water and sipped at it. _

_"I'm sorry, Mr. Drummond," she finally said. "That's not how I prefer to make my entrances."_

_Drumm shrugged. "How did you know where I lived?"_

_"It's not a mystery, Mr. Drummond. I've been here before." Sophie glanced around. "You haven't changed much."_

_"I haven't changed anything," Drumm said ruefully. "I just added the mess." It was true. Theo had been tidy. Drumm had yet to work out how to switch on the vacuum cleaner._

_Sophie put down her glass and turned her body to face him. Drumm steeled himself instinctively without knowing why. "I find I am in need of your services after all Mr. Drummond. I want to see Jason."_

_"Can I know why?"_

_"Is that necessary?"_

_"Maybe," Drumm replied. "It would help to know what sort of reaction I'm going to get when I find him. Plus, you keep lying to me. I'm curious to see what story you come up with this time." Drumm reckoned that she wanted to glare at him but now that she had recovered her equilibrium, she was attempting to control it. Or maybe it was all an act. Drumm really couldn't work her out – fuck it, he was a guy. He couldn't work any of them out._

_"I deserve that, I suppose," she said, her eyes on the floor. _

_Drumm watched her face, noting how much it softened when she wasn't playing the ice queen. She was beautiful. Theo wasn't being a sap being attracted to her. Her features were delicate, her skin was as smooth as silk and her body was tight and lithe. Not as good as Elsa's – Elsa was petite but had curves. Sophie was all angles._

_"Jason didn't just leave," she said softly. Sophie drew in her breath. "He took something with him that wasn't his. You have to understand, Mr. Drummond-"_

_"Drumm, please," Drumm begged. He couldn't take being addressed as his father any more. Sophie nodded._

_"You have to understand, Drumm, that being in the pharmaceutical business these days is tough. The amount of money it takes to fund research and development of new drugs is phenomenal. It's money that you see no return on for a very long time. Your existing product range has to be the cash cow but two years ago, our most lucrative patent came to an end with significant effect on our revenue stream. Since then, we've been struggling to replace that income, hence the move to incorporate. None of my family wants to take the company public but we have no choice if we want to survive._

_"Jason's pet project was scrapped in a drive for the fast development of new painkillers, they being the quickest and easiest to develop and market. Jason had been researching immunodeficiency. His mother had died of pneumonia because her immune system wasn't able to fight off the virus. Jason had been enticed to join the company on the promise that he could pursue his research at the same time as he ran the department, which he did well, so when my father insisted that he abandon his research entirely, well, Jason was furious. He hadn't bothered with a lawyer when he signed his employment contract and there was nothing he could do. That's when he and my father fought and it's why he left._

_"Only, he didn't just leave. He took his notes with him. Those notes belong to the company, not to Jason. We didn't report it because we didn't want the publicity. Any pharmaceutical company researcher can throw dirt at their companies. And as far as my father was concerned, it didn't matter much." _

_Sophie paused and looked at Drumm with searching eyes. She still didn't trust him, he saw that, but maybe she was finally realising that she had to if she wanted his help. "Part of my job is to track disease trends, to get a jumpstart on what drugs will be needed over the next five years, ten years," she continued. "I develop contacts, ones who can give me information which I can use to help me do my job, however I can." Drumm snorted, having a good idea as to at least one of her methods of developing contacts. Sophie ignored him and forged on. "I have a couple of contacts at the CDC, the Centre for Disease Control. They're looking into something that, well, let's just say that it's relevant to Jason's research. They're a long way from any announcements but if it turns out to be what it looks like, we're looking at something huge."_

_"A huge opportunity for a drug company to make money, you mean."_

_Sophie's eyes narrowed. "I'm not going to apologize for being in business to make money, Drumm. That's the sort of naivety I'd expect from a stunted hippie still living his teens, not a man of what, thirty? Granted, with a sole claim to fame of being a drummer for a band who had a song played once on the radio, maybe you do match that profile."_

_Drumm knew that the rebuke was partly justified but he was more taken by how much she knew about him. "Theo really did talk about me, huh? I don't know if I'm more surprised that he did or by the idea that you two actually talked at all."_

_Sophie must have reached the end of her tether because she reacted with a slap across his face. As Drumm exercised his jaw, he reflected that he really wasn't having that good a day. _

+...+

_Elsa was retouching her makeup to cover a new bruise before her second set when there was a soft knock at the door. She sighed. She wasn't in the mood for entertaining anyone tonight but she knew better than to ignore it. It might be somebody Sallis wanted her to meet. "Come in."_

_Elsa watched in the mirror as an unfamiliar woman opened the door. Elsa thought she'd seen her once before but she wasn't one of the usual hostesses._

_"Hi, I'm Pepper," the woman said. "I'm new and Trudy said you might be able to help me out with some shoes." _

_Like most of the Pink Leopard ladies, it probably wasn't her real name but it was well-chosen. Pepper had smooth skin the colour of ebony and very tightly cropped hair with specks of white. She was beautiful and very tall. Elsa frowned. "I'm pleased to meet you, Pepper. I'm Elsa. I'd love to help but the chances of my shoes fitting you are pretty slim, I'd say." Elsa stood and came only as far as Pepper's chin. _

_Pepper laughed. "No sorry. What I meant was Trudy needs some shoes and asked me to come get them for her. I'm making the move up from waitress to hostess soon and she's sort of showing me the ropes." She paused and added thoughtfully, "Although all I seem to be doing is a lot of fetching and carrying for her."_

_Elsa chuckled. "Yes, that's Trudy. Sure, go help yourself. Tell her I want them back in the morning." Pepper grinned and headed for the wardrobe that Elsa pointed to. She rummaged for a moment before pulling out a pair of bright purple pumps. "On second thought," Elsa said with a grimace, "tell her she can keep those. They're horrible!"_

_Both women laughed and Elsa really liked Pepper's throaty, natural sound. They smiled at each other before Pepper turned towards the door. She opened it, paused and turned back to Elsa. "I heard your songs earlier. You're really good."_

_"Thank you," Elsa said, genuinely touched. The hostesses tended to ignore Elsa out of either fear or jealousy. Trudy was an exception. Pepper, on the other hand seemed to be somebody she could be friends with. It was a shame that Pepper was aspiring to be a hostess. Impulsively, Elsa reached out. "Pepper," she said, "are you sure you want to be a hostess? I mean, I know the money is tempting but has Trudy really explained what you have to do for it?"_

_Pepper checked the hallway and shut the door again. "To be honest, no, she hasn't, but I get the drift." Pepper was sombre. "My-my mom… I have to earn better money and I can't really afford to…" Elsa watched her shake it off. "Yeah, I can't really afford to be picky, you know?"_

_Elsa nodded with a sad smile. She was the last one in a position to judge. "Okay," she said. "Well, welcome to the Pink Leopard. I hope it provides you what you need."_

_Pepper nodded and smiled. "Look, do you want to go out for a drink after work? We could get to know each other and you could tell me all the people I need to suck up to or avoid, you know, give me the head's up."_

_Elsa hesitated. It was lonely but she'd always seen it as a good thing not to get too close to the other staff at the Pink Leopard. Having friends there wasn't conducive to her objective. It could be dangerous. On the other hand, having somebody to talk to might take her mind off **him**. Elsa cursed when Drumm's image blinked into her head – again. He was a lot more dangerous. _

_Pepper was getting increasingly uncomfortable with the silence. "Sorry, dumb idea," she said hurriedly. "Of course, you've got much more important things to do." Pepper turned to open the door._

_"No," Elsa said, stepping forward and putting a hand on Pepper's arm. Sallis was out of town. There was only Tony to deal with and Pepper was just his type. She'd bedazzle him. "No, it's a great idea. Let's do that." Elsa smiled and Pepper nodded with a grin._

+...+

_When Drumm woke up, Sophie was gone. He felt the bed next to him where she lay and it was cold. She'd been gone awhile. Drumm turned onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. What the hell was he doing? This was some fucked up shit._

_After she'd hit him, Sophie had burst into tears again. It was natural instinct that made Drumm pull her into his arms and hold her against his bare chest. What wasn't natural, what was downright unnatural given her relationship with his brother, was Drumm's response when Sophie stopped crying and started running her hands over him. Drumm sighed. He didn't turn down free sex, never had, never would, but it was the first time he really didn't like himself for it. _

_Sophie had told him she liked sex. What she hadn't said was how good she was at it. Drumm had never had an experience like it. She knew exactly the right places to touch at exactly the right moments. She'd dedicated herself to his pleasure. No wonder her contacts were so reliable._

_She was playing him, of course she was. In the heat of lust, Drumm had agreed to find Jason Montana for her. She was playing him just like she'd played his brother. The thought of Theo being there before him made Drumm retch and he rolled out of bed and ran to the bathroom. He didn't throw up but it was close. He needed distraction. He turned on the television while he found some cleanish clothes._

…failure to return the embassy hostages, all diplomatic relations with Iran have been severed and economic sanctions are in force from today. In local news, a fireman saves three children from a burning house and protestors get a boost at the world-renowned Thompson Bird Sanctuary. More after the break.

_The ads proved to be a better distraction. They were dumb and stupid, coaxing him to buy stuff he didn't need. Being irritated was more diverting that being bored so when the news came back on, he walked over to switch it off. He paused on hearing a name he recognised._

…protestors welcomed Councilwoman Georgina Jensen to the site today. Councilwoman Jensen leads those on the council who are holding out against approving the developers' plans to close the cash-strapped sanctuary and use the land for a new $30,000,000 mall that would guarantee four thousand jobs. "Borrowing from Joni Mitchell, we not going to let greedy land-grabbers pave this bird paradise and put up a parking lot." The crowd cheered the councilwoman and her husband, Dr. Jeff Jensen, seen more and more often these days on her arm as she ramps up what many are predicting to be her run for mayor.

_Bully for her, Drumm thought. She may be an adulteress, but there was some good in her. The time check that flashed up just as he turned the TV off made him curse. He had to run. He wanted to check in with Alyssa at the agency before heading for the squat to pick up Jack. He was desperate to know what she'd found out at the Pink Leopard. He felt even worse about Sophie as he thought of Elsa. _

+...+

_Drummond Investigations was in chaos. There were files strewn over the floor, drawer contents tipped over and the lock on Theo's office was broken. Sid was in the middle of it all, slowly picking up papers and pictures. Mitch was checking his equipment carefully._

_"What the hell?" Drumm said as he viewed the mess. "What happened?"_

_"Doing a spot of spring cleaning," Sid said sourly. "What does it look like?"_

_Mitch grinned. "We had a break-in."_

_Drumm surveyed the damage. Whoever had done it had the subtlety of a gorilla. At least when he burgled places in the old days, he left things tidy. "Anything taken?" he asked. Sid just grunted at him._

_"Not that we can tell," Mitch said, "but it's going to take all day to be sure."_

_"So, somebody looking for money for drugs or something?"_

_"You'd know," said Sid, throwing what he'd picked up back down on the floor. He looked at Drumm's stricken face and relented. "No," he said shortly. "They jimmied the petty cash box but left the money. That's like no addict I've ever seen. Somebody was looking for something. If we work out what it is, we'll know who's responsible. So," he said, "you ready to get your hands dirty?"_

_Drumm grimaced in apology. "I can't. I'm picking up Jack in an hour to follow up Elsa's lead on Sally Strong." Drumm looked around. "Where's Alyssa. I wanted to hear about last night."_

_"Alyssa's about as useful as you right now," Sid said, his mood darkening again._

_Mitch laughed. "She's gone to the drugstore to get some aspirin. She's got one hell of a hangover by the look of her."_

_"Damn, I can't wait. I'm sorry guys. I'll get back as quick as I can to help out."_

_"Sure you will," Sid grumbled. "You'll get here just when we're done. You youngsters, you're all alike when it comes to clearing up your own messes." _


	15. Help

**The _Glee_ characters belong to _Glee_, the rest of the characters belong to me. This story is improved no end by wood-u-like-2-no's contribution as beta and soundboard. Thank you for reading and in particular to those leaving feedback. It really does inspire me to continue. **

**Conceit: Chapter titles are song titles. The Beatles again. Always reliable.**

**+...+**

**Chapter Fifteen: Help**

[_what's your eta?_]

Finn pressed the send button as he walked into the lobby of Chateau Marmont. He was early. Ben had left at the crack of dawn for a writers' meeting and was gone when he woke up. Puck was nowhere to be seen. Finn didn't want to go find him. Puck would be shacked up in his bedroom with some chick or he would be suffering after a night of heavy drinking. Either way, he was best avoided. Restless, Finn didn't want to sit in his empty kitchen so he decided to grab breakfast at the hotel before finding the team.

His phone beeped as he made his way towards the restaurant. Finn checked the incoming message.

[_5pm your time. Tell me if picking me up yourself. Am mess. Need at least two hours to repair damage or your paps will have field day. Cannot afford bad pictures_]

What the hell was going on? It was physically impossible for his brother to ever be a mess. Finn stared at the screen in puzzlement as he rounded the corner, heading for the hotel's famed Garden Terrace. The sudden collision was unexpected and, combined with a slippery floor and rustiness in using the quick footwork football and dance practice had given him, he found himself on his ass. On the marble floor in front of him were his dropped phone and the sprawled body of someone with long, auburn hair. Both looked kind of broken.

"Oh my God," Finn said, "I'm so sorry! Are you all right?" Ignoring the voice of Santana in his head – _Never admit anything! You're a litigation magnet!_ – Finn added, "I'm really, really sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going."

Finn scrambled to his feet and hurried to help the woman up. He could see from the corner of his eye at least three hotel staff heading their direction. The woman took his hand and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. Finn waited for the justified anger. What he got was the sound of silver bells chiming. She was laughing.

"Wow," she said softly. "That's one way to say welcome to LA." She was brushing the spotless hotel's non-existent dust from her skirt with her left hand and gently testing her right wrist. It looked to Finn like it had already started to swell.

"Is everything all right here?" The most officious of the hotel staff was taking charge. Finn turned to her. He could see her eyes widen as she recognised him. Over her shoulder, he could see more and more people watching with interest.

"No," he said. "There's been an accident. Can you get your doctor down here? I think this lady's hurt her wrist."

"No, really, that's not necessary," the red-head protested. "I'll be fine."

"No, you're not. You need to be checked out." Finn turned back to the manager. "Is there a private room or somewhere we can go while we wait?" He shifted his gaze to behind her and the manager noted the onlookers.

The manager nodded and gestured that they should follow. Finn grabbed his phone and put his hand under the uninjured arm of the woman.

"Really, I'm fine. There's no need for all this fuss."

"It's no fuss just to get it checked out. It's on me."

"You know, you really should stop inviting me to sue you." Finn shrugged and increased the pressure on her arm a little. "Well, if you insist," she finally conceded. "Hang on." Her eyes searched the floor. Finn spied a large purse-cum-bag in the corner and grabbed it. He put the strap over his shoulder. He glanced at her and noticed that she seemed amused by the sight but at last, her muscles relaxed and she let him lead her away.

The manager took them to a small sitting room off the main foyer. It was tastefully furnished with couches and armchairs around a large coffee table. Glass doors led to a small patio where there was a table and a couple of chairs overlooking the lush grounds. The manager left them to contact the doctor. After Finn had the woman settled on one of the couches, a couple of waiters from the restaurant entered with trays of coffee for two, tea for two and a selection of breads, toast and breakfast pastries.

As soon as they were alone again, Finn opened his mouth to apologize again. She held up her uninjured hand.

"Please, stop apologizing. It was an accident. I wasn't looking where I was going either so we're equally responsible. Now, I would love a cup of tea. It could be drinkable here. Maybe you could be mother?" Finn's confused face garnered a chuckle and the further explanation, "I am asking you to pour."

"Oh, right." Finn nodded and busied himself with a tray while surreptitiously examining his victim. She was English; the accent was a dead giveaway. Brits were common in Hollywood but he still felt charmed whenever he heard those rounded vowels. She was also very attractive. He reckoned she was about five-nine and in her early to mid twenties. She was slim but not angular with generous breasts and soft curves. Her skin was pale with tiny freckles scattered over her nose and cheeks. Her eyes were greenish-blue but her crowning glory was her hair. It was the colour of autumn. He wondered idly if it was natural.

"Milk first!"

Finn froze and put down the teapot. He added milk to the cup and then poured the tea, handing it over. She took it with her left hand and placed it down in front of her. Picking up the cup, Finn watched as she took the first sip. "Umm," she said. "Heaven." At Finn's amused glance, she laughed. "It's the first decent cup I've had since I've been here." Finn smiled and used his hand to indicate the food.

"What can I get you?"

"Nothing," she said. "Too nervous."

Before Finn could ask why, there was a knock at the door. The manager entered with a man carrying a doctor's bag. Finn left with the manager to give them privacy, stopping outside to wait.

"Excuse me," he said as the manager started to walk away.

"Yes, Mr. Hudson?"

"Two things. Could you get me another phone?" He held out his broken phone. "Same make, same model? I'm hoping the chip's okay." The manager nodded. "Second thing, could you find out where my meeting is and let them know I might be a little late." It was a sign of the efficiency of the hotel that he didn't have to explain what meeting.

The manager returned with a new phone and the information he'd asked for before the doctor came out. Finn swapped the chips and was relieved to see that his had survived the crash.

[_don't panic. will get puck to collect you. no paps unless they're your own. be prepared to tell me what the hell's going on!_]

As Finn pressed send, the doctor emerged from the door beside him. "How is she," Finn asked. He knew one of the many advantages of celebrity was getting information that wasn't any of his business from the obsequious. Medical license be damned for the doctor didn't even have the grace to hesitate. He knew who the hotel would expect him to satisfy.

"She'll be fine. It's a sprain and as soon as she gets something on it, it's just a matter of time."

"As soon as she-" Finn was confused. "You didn't deal with it?"

"She didn't want a bandage," the doctor said with a shrug. "Maybe you can talk some sense into her. I tried." With that the doctor nodded and walked away. Finn frowned and returned to the room.

"Why didn't you let the doctor attend to your wrist?"

"Doctor-patient confidentiality works really differently over here," she said dryly.

Finn did have some grace and blushed. "Yeah, I'm sorry I pried but really? Is this some kind of stiff upper-lip thing?"

"It some kind of none-of-your-beeswax thing, actually," she said, collecting her bag and putting it gently over her right shoulder. She stood. "I have to go."

"We haven't even introduced ourselves," Finn said a little desperately. He was not satisfied that he'd done everything he could or should for her. It was his fault she was sporting a sprained wrist.

"I know who you are. Cinema has made it across the pond, you know." The sarcasm was gentle. "Thank you, Finn Hudson, for the tea and the medical care. It was a pleasure to meet you but I have to run." She made a dash for the door.

"Wait! I don't even know who you are."

She called back as she disappeared out the door. "No, you don't."

+...+

The first audition was in progress when Finn made it to the conference room. Finn slid into his place at the table with an apologetic glance at Amy. The woman auditioning was reading with Alex Robb, the actor who played Jack Strong. She was good, had a decent resemblance to Alex and Finn could sense the approval of the small audience when he did his own reading with her.

At the end of the audition, there was a short delay. Alex approached Finn and Finn could see he was nervous. "What's up, Alex?"

"Um," Alex started before gazing down at the floor. "Um, I wanted to talk to you, to ask you if you would mind if I…"

Finn, brow furrowed, tried to work out what Alex's problem could be. They'd been friends a couple of years, Alex having had a part in one of Finn's movies for Amy. He'd never been this backward in coming forward before. What was with all the hesitation? "Spit it out, dude!"

Alex took a deep breath. "I want to take Rachel Berry out on a date."

Whatever Finn was expecting, it wasn't this but as he reflected, he realised it made perfect sense. Given that barely-there dress and her behaviour the night before, he'd be more surprised if a lot of guys weren't thinking the same thing. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised to find out one of them made it to her bed last night. It didn't make him happy for reasons he didn't care to explore but he had no right to object. "Rachel's a free agent, Alex. Nothing to do with me."

"I know, but you two had a thing and I don't want to step on toes. We're friends, you know?"

Finn gave Alex a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Yeah," he said. "We are. Bros before hoes." A favourite of Puck's, it wasn't an expression Finn much liked and whatever he thought of Rachel, she certainly wasn't a whore, but as guy code, it worked. Alex smiled and relaxed. Finn made his way back to the table with a coffee, his first of the day he realised, and put his sudden dark mood down to caffeine withdrawal. He was still staring down into it when the next person to audition arrived.

"Hi, I'm Katie Cleaver and I'm auditioning for the role of Sally Strong." Finn was startled by the familiar yet unfamiliar voice.

_What the hell?! Now she's American?!_

Finn watched as Katie who, like the first actress had a good enough resemblance to Alex to play his sister, gave a very strong reading. Was this the real accent and the other assumed or…? He'd seen Brits with good American accents before but not that often and not this perfect. He glanced at the others along the table. They were all captivated by her performance and he could see that Alex, sitting along the side, was too. Katie hadn't glanced at Finn once since she'd entered the room and, unless he'd seen it for himself, he would never have guessed she was nursing a sprained wrist. What was going on?

He narrowed his eyes and cursed Rachel Berry for making him think about the lengths people would go to for a part.

+...+

Rachel was slow to rouse. She opened her eyes cautiously; hoping against hope there was no one else in the bed with her. There wasn't and there were no signs that anyone had been. She sighed in relief.

Rachel had gone out fully intending to return with a new lover. Her confidence had evaporated in a single moment and, to compensate, she'd hit the alcohol hard. Her memory was blurred. It was the second time in a week she'd gone over the top with booze and it was a stupid and dangerous path to be walking down. She swore she was cutting out all alcohol that wasn't served with food.

The clock told her it was 10am and her head told her that she shouldn't move. She ignored her head which screamed in protest as she sat up. _Uh-oh_.

An hour later, after a long conversation with God on the great white telephone that was her toilet bowl, she appeared in the kitchen, desperate for as much water as she could take. There was no sign of Quinn and Rachel marched out to the porch, taking one of the sun loungers and staring out at the sea. It was time to reassess.

She didn't really want to relive that horrible moment but she couldn't help herself. The look in his eyes had burned through her like a laser. He wasn't jealous, he was mortified and disgusted. He'd never looked at her like that before, not even on that terrible night in New York. She didn't blame him. As soon as she spotted him, she saw herself through his eyes and hated what she saw. What was she thinking? It was a stupid idea, one that torpedoed all her work on Operation Charm and made her the pin-up girl for the easy lay. That wasn't her.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

Rachel sighed and bit her lip. Was it a dumb idea or was it just really lousy execution? She couldn't deny that she was being far too sensitive to Finn's reaction. It shouldn't matter what he thought so long as it didn't affect their ability to act. Rachel threw up her hands. This whole thing was to help her and Finn, not make it worse. Rachel felt the tears well up and shook her head angrily. She felt like she was back in high school when she'd cheated with Puck to hurt him and knew it was her own damn fault when he walked away. She'd acted like a brat and now she was paying for it. She had a lot of damage to undo.

Rachel was considering her next move when she heard her phone. "Hello," she said uncertainly, prepared to be berated by… anyone.

"Hi, Rachel. This is Alex Robb. You gave me your number last night."

Rachel dreaded to think how many guys she gave her number to and furrowed her brow, trying to remember which one was Alex. She remembered a nice looking guy with blue eyes and reddish-brown hair. He was the one playing Sally's brother. He hadn't been all hands and he hadn't been obnoxious. It was good to be grateful for small mercies. "Hi, Alex, how are you?"

"I'm good," she heard him say. "More importantly, how are you? I wasn't sure you'd be feeling up to any calls this morning but…"

"I'm never drinking again," she said with a laugh. "Hung over but dealing."

"I'm glad to hear that. Anyway, I wondered if you'd like to go out to lunch some time."

Rachel could hear the excited expectation in his voice and paused. He was cute but she'd come to appreciate Quinn's point that playing around with cast members may not be the wisest thing for her to do. After last night, she'd upgraded her opinion of Quinn's advice.

Her hesitation caused sputtering at the other end of the phone. "Of course," Alex said, "I-I'd understand completely if you weren't interested-"

"No," Rachel said quickly. "It's not what you think. I mean, it kind of is but I could really do with friends right now so if it's on that basis, I'd love to."

"Okay, cool." He seemed both pleased and disappointed. "I've got a charity event I'm doing on Sunday. It's with a lot of kids and there's a picnic. Sound friendly enough?"

"It sounds perfect."

After working out the details, Rachel ended the call. She didn't want to alienate anybody so she needed to redouble her efforts at Operation Charm. Maybe she just needed to stop worrying about how to act better with Finn and turn her talents onto simply charming him, if that was possible.

She idly checked her messages as she pondered this. On reading one, her eyes widened. Maybe her first idea, with a little adjustment, wasn't so bad after all.

**Drumm: Chapter Fifteen**

_Drumm found his drums before he found Jack or Lise-Marie. He'd missed them. He looked down at his hand, flexing his free fingers. The one with the splint removed was stiff but it moved with effort. Impatient, he ripped the splint off the second broken one. It was a lot stiffer and hurt a lot more but he was tired of not being able to play. He sat down on the stool and worked the fingers of his damaged hand around the stick. Picking up the other stick, he started brushing the surface of his drums gently. Within minutes, he was beating them hard, giving vent to multiple frustrations._

_"You're back!"_

_Drumm stopped and looked up to see Johnny and Mags at the door. They were in each other's arms and Mags was rubbing her nose against Johnny's neck. They were on again. Drumm's timing was perfect. When they were on, things were a lot more peaceful. Drumm did a final drum roll in response and rose from the stool. "I am."_

_"Back for good?" Johnny was sceptical._

_"Well, no, still got the agency, still looking for a murderer, but back to do gigs anyway. Bill will be relieved. I hear you guys were hard on him."_

_Johnny scoffed. "He's like me granny that one. Always telling me off." _

_Mags giggled. "Just because he said you shouldn't throw bottles at the audience."_

_"Exactly!" said Johnny indignantly. "I mean, has he even heard of the Sex Pistols?" _

_"Johnny, you shouldn't throw bottles at the audience. It'll get us sued." Drumm was sincere._

_Johnny snorted. "So what? We got nothing' worth suing for, have we?" _

_"I got you, babe," Mags said, planting her lips on Johnny's. They fell back out of the room to Drumm's relief. While it was better when they weren't fighting, the public sex got old fast too. Jack entered from another door._

_"That sounded good."_

_"Yeah." Drumm looked down at his hand. "I think I'm okay to go back to gigging so long as I can still keep going at the agency. You okay with that, Jack?"_

_"Sure, although…" Drumm raised his eyebrows. "Although nothing," Jack amended. "You're finding Sally for me, that's all that matters right now."_

_"Jack," Drumm said softly, "remember, we may not find her today."_

_"I know. But you're giving me hope Drumm. That's more than I've had in the last ten years and good enough for now. Trust me. Just knowing she's alive would be something."_

_Drumm shuffled his feet, still uncertain about involving Jack. He sighed and looked around. "Is Lise-Marie around?"_

_"She's gone out, I think. Said something about looking for some strings. Why, was she supposed to be here?"_

_Drumm shook his head, worried that she was avoiding him. "No. I just wanted to talk to her. I think she's mad at me."_

_"For what?"_

_"I think she wanted me to ask her to move in with me and when I didn't, she got pissed. Now I need her to give evidence about… something and I'm not sure she's gonna come through."_

_"You're too far up your own ass if you think that. You know Lise-Marie. She's not vindictive."_

_Drumm paused. Jack was right and he was worrying over nothing. He'd catch her later. He nodded at Jack. "Ready?"_

+...+

_Elsa stretched in the bed. It was always a good day when Sallis was away. He wasn't due back for three more days and she had every intention of making the most of them. She believed she'd finally gotten what she'd spent months trying to find; a new shot at Sallis's safe. It all fit. It had to be right._

_It was weird that she'd come to it from something Pepper said. Elsa smiled as she recalled the night. She'd had fun. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had fun. She refused to count her meetings with Drumm. Damn it? Why was she thinking about him again? Or that kiss? Bastard kept getting in the way._

_She'd easily talked Tony into accompanying them to the bar. He couldn't take his eyes off Pepper the whole night. He was too dumb to understand that the women were either mocking him or talking over his head. She and Pepper had competed to see who could be the most outrageous. Pepper won with "The only good goon is a dead goon." It was the only comment to get an offended "Hey!" out of Tony before he went back to gazing at her slavishly. They'd framed their mockery in a discussion about movies and they continued in that vein with Pepper telling Elsa about her favourite movie, _The Asphalt Jungle_, most notable for giving Marilyn Monroe her first major role. Pepper hated that she was all anybody ever talked about because Pepper was convinced it was the best movie ever made. Elsa agreed it was good but it was a little dark for her tastes. It led them onto a discussion about cracking safes._

_"What I hate in movies," said Pepper, "is that they never get it right. I mean honestly, they're the easiest things to crack, especially combination safes, and yet they have people blowing them up like Ciavelli does in _The Asphalt Jungle_. At least that was a vault. Blowing up combos is just over the top."_

_Elsa's interest was piqued. "You seem to know a lot about safes."_

_"It's common sense," Pepper said. "Most people use significant dates so they can remember them. If you know the person, you can guess the combination pretty easily. Smart people use random numbers but, and here's the rub, random numbers are hard to remember so they have to write them down somewhere, preferably near the safe. Only the really smart people remember randomly chosen numbers. If I ever had a safe, I'd remember the random number." Pepper had drained her drink and held her glass up expectantly to Tony. She licked her lips. Tony shot up, took the glass and trotted off to the bar. _

_Pepper grinned at Elsa who called after him, "Don't mind me!" Elsa grinned back and gestured a string around her finger. Pepper winked. _

_Elsa found Pepper's words repeating in her head as she lay in bed later. Sallis had two safes, one at the Pink Leopard and another at the apartment. She'd seen the inside of the one at the Pink Leopard when Sallis was banking cash. She'd not caught sight of any account books or papers, just cash, although she'd like to get in there on her own one of these days to double check. The safe in his office at the apartment was another matter. He'd never opened that in her presence. She knew Pepper was right about familiar numbers. Every time she had free run, she'd tried various combinations. His birthday, hers, his mother's, his dad's, the day he got out of jail as a juvenile, the date of famous sporting events. None had worked. Sallis was smart. He'd be one of the ones to use random numbers and she had a new place to look or rather, a new thing to look for. He was a crook. That meant he couldn't be super smart enough to remember random numbers, right? They had to be written down somewhere in that office. She just had to find out where._

_Elsa thought there was no time like the present. Tony was staying at the apartment in Sallis's absence but he wouldn't be up and about for a while. He'd drunk a lot of alcohol the night before and even though he was a big man, his tolerance was suspect. She dressed hurriedly before making her way to Sallis' office._

+...+

_They pulled up at a house that had seen better days. Much better days. A number of the windows were boarded and the grass hadn't talked to a lawn mower in years. Jack frowned and looked at Drumm. "Wait here," Drumm said. Jack nodded._

_Drumm got out of the car and made his way up to the front door. It was looking like a bust and he silently cursed Elsa Cannotti. He wouldn't admit it to Jack, but as much as Drumm had raised Jack's hopes, Elsa had raised Drumm's. He knocked sharply on the wood._

_It was a while before Drumm heard movement. He rapped on the door again, harder and longer. He heard a chain being dropped and stepped back as the door opened. The woman was in her fifties and grossly overweight. There was a lit cigarette drooping from her lip. She had slippers on swollen feet at the end of swollen legs. No wonder it had taken her this long to answer the door. Drumm smiled his most charming smile._

_"Hi," he started brightly. "I hope you can help me. I'm looking for Sally Prior. I understand she lives here."_

_The woman looked him up and down. She checked around him and saw Jack in the car. Drumm waited for the results of her appraisal. It was a bit of a wait and he opened his mouth to give her more encouragement. She held up her hand._

_"She used to," she said shortly. "She moved." The woman made to close the door._

_"Wait!" Drumm didn't put his foot in the door. He sensed the woman wouldn't react well. "Mrs. Prior is it?"_

_"Forward."_

_"Mrs. Forward. Um, do you know where she is? It's important that I find her."_

_"Can't help you, young man. Sorry." She pushed the door further closed._

_"Wait. Please. I need to find her. I have her-"_

_Drumm's sales pitch was interrupted by the blare of his car horn. He looked behind him. Jack was out of the car, pressing the horn through the open driver's window. He shouted "I saw her" and took off running. Drumm, with a curse, raced after him._

_They ran for at least a mile by Drumm's reckoning. His ribs were aching by the time he caught up with Jack who'd stopped at a crossroads and was looking frantically in every direction. "It was her, Drumm. I know it. I recognised her."_

_"Did she see you?"_

_"I don't think so. I was watching you and I saw here in the mirror. She stopped on seeing you at the door and took off. I tried to call after her but I was too choked. I don't think she heard me. Now, I've lost her!" Jack was close to tears. Drumm put his arm over his friend's shoulders._

_"At least we know it's your sister. She's alive and well."_

_"And still running away," Jack said sadly._

_"Come on. Let's go back and see if the lovely Mrs. Forward will help us out."_

_They walked back to the car. Drumm and Jack went up to the house and Drumm knocked again. This time, there was no response._

+...+

_"You have to help me."_

_The voice was vaguely familiar. Elsa was cursing the caller. She's been conducting a search of the office when the phone had rung. Because she didn't want to take the call in the office – Tony would be up any minute and she didn't want to explain what she was doing there – she raced out and into the lounge to answer it. It rang long enough to actually wake Tony as Elsa heard just as she picked up the receiver. _

_"I'm sorry, who is this?" Elsa asked._

_"It's Sally Prior. I need your help. He said he'd leave me alone but he came after me today. I need $5000 to get out of town and I need it now."_

_"Sally, um, I'm happy to help if I can but I don't have $5000-"_

_"You can get it. You're Sallis's whore." _

_Elsa eyes narrowed and her voice turned frosty. "I'm sorry, Miss Prior, but I hardly know you and-"_

_"But I know you," Sally said in a rush. "More importantly, I know who you are!"_


	16. Welcome to the Cheap Seats

**The _Glee_ characters belong to _Glee_, the rest of the characters belong to me. This story is improved no end by wood-u-like-2-no's contribution (particularly, on this occasion, as a lyricist) as beta and soundboard. As for today's posting, I'm _hoping_ to increase my rate so the story is finished before the start of S.4. Thank you for reading and in particular to those leaving feedback. Only way to know someone's out there. **

**Conceit: Chapter titles are song titles. The Wonder Stuff is a fun band at their peak in the mid-90s. I don't think they ever made it across the pond which is a shame. **

**+...+**

**Chapter Sixteen: Welcome to the Cheap Seats**

LAX was heaving. Rachel peered up at the board to check the arrivals. The plane from New York she was looking for was delayed. Wearing her darkest sunglasses and stoically bearing the headache of all headaches, Rachel sighed and glanced around. She could do with some coffee. The closest place was a bar and whilst the mere idea of alcohol resulted in a fresh wave of nausea, she was sure they would serve other drinks. She made her way over to it, finding a table that gave her a good view of the arrivals board.

He was just what she needed, she thought. They'd been together for eighteen months, the longest she spent with anyone besides Finn. It ended when he told her he'd fallen in love with someone else. It had shocked Rachel that the only thing that was bruised by this otherwise devastating news was her ego. She was genuinely happy for him and they'd remained good friends. She couldn't have been more delighted at getting his text to say he was coming to LA for a while. She'd insisted he stay at the beach house and after a few messages to and fro, he'd agreed.

A waiter took her order and Rachel pulled out her script. Tomorrow was the first day of block two and was the first day with the new director. Rachel was determined to be pitch perfect. John Sullivan had been great but he'd seen Rachel at her worst, both in the disastrous scene with Finn and last night. Mary McCormick was a clean slate. Rachel scanned the script. Elsa had a few appearances in episode four – a couple of fun ones with Pepper and Pepper-and-Tony, a couple on her own and just one that involved Drumm although she wouldn't appear with him.

She groaned as she recalled that she'd been introduced to the actress playing Pepper the night before. She'd been in the scene for the funeral but they'd not met then. She would be another who witnessed Rachel's behaviour. Rachel had to face the fact that everybody had seen her make an ass of herself. Operation Charm just got a whole lot harder but it was Hollywood. Everybody gets forgiven if they turn in the work. That was Rachel's comfort.

To distract herself, Rachel, who was trusted with the whole script, read the rest of it. Her eyebrows rose when she saw what was going on with Drumm and Sophie. She couldn't help the stab of jealousy and berated herself for it. It was ridiculous. They were playing parts, they weren't Finn and Quinn, and, even if they were, it wasn't her business. Pushing back the contrary feelings, she looked up desperately at the arrivals board where the word "delayed" flashed stubbornly against his flight number. _Hurry up!_ _I need my diversion._

The arrival of the coffee was second best. She sipped it gratefully, feeling the warmth work its way down her body. She indulged in her third favourite activity as she drank – people watching. One of the most valuable lessons she'd learned at NYADA was that a good actor was observant and through observation built up a reservoir of understanding about what people did, how they thought, how they expressed themselves, how they moved, what they felt, the tics they displayed, all of it. Rachel had had to work extra hard on developing that particular skill. She'd had to acknowledge that she'd spent her life being positively unobservant when it came to others, focusing instead on herself. She quickly came to learn that being observant didn't just give her a bigger bag of tricks; it made her a better person and she liked being a better person. Four years of high school had started the process. Training to be an actor accelerated it without making her abandon her confidence in herself.

Rachel noticed a woman jumping up and down in excitement and, following the direction of the woman's stare, saw two small children, a boy and a girl of about seven and five respectively being escorted by a flight attendant. The kids weren't nearly as enthusiastic, hanging back and clinging onto the hand of a stranger. The story it told was clear – broken home and kids who loved their dad a lot more than they loved their mom. The tragic sight of the attendant having to peel the little girl's hand from her own made Rachel gulp back a swell of emotion. She didn't know where the emotion came from and she angrily wiped the single tear that fell on her cheek. She turned her head and watched a young couple unite as an old couple a few paces away from them parted. Both couples were drowned in tears. Beyond, she saw a man in jeans and a leather jacket gazing up at the arrivals board. She was so busy working out a story for him that it was a full minute before she realised that there was something very familiar about the Mohawk. So much for observation she thought ruefully.

_Puck? _

+...+

It was a little known fact about Noah Puckerman that he hated to fly. His first experience, travelling to New York and back for the National Show Choir Competition had been exciting. He was with Schu and New Directions, he was pumped to be going and he'd put his qualms at every different engine sound on the flight to and the abject misery that rendered him speechless on the flight back down to first time nerves and the glee club's failure respectively. It was the next flight that clarified things for him. There was an incident on his flight to California. Over the Rockies, they'd hit serious turbulence, so serious that the cabin crew had to remind the passengers about safety procedures. They didn't actually need to put their pillows in the laps and their heads down onto them, but it was close and as soon as Puck landed at LAX, he'd kissed the ground and swore never to fly again. Circumstances had made him break the vow from time to time, but he'd never lost the fear.

Puck wasn't one to broadcast his weaknesses. Nobody knew except Finn. Ben, a comedy nerd, had made Puck and Finn listen to an old routine by a Scottish comedian who had recently died called Billy Connolly. The piece was "The Jobbie Weecha" and, once they'd penetrated the thick Glaswegian brogue, both Ben and Finn found it hilarious. Puck had already experienced for himself Connolly's scepticism at the effectiveness of pillows when a plane is about to crash into a mountain but not his sense of humour about it. Ben's eyes were too tear-filled with laughter to notice but Finn had seen Puck's face drain and had later pinned him down on it. What Finn didn't know was that Puck's aversion to flying extended to airports.

He had cursed when he read Finn's text, once he'd dragged himself out of bed. Puck's hangovers were minor things, over before they ever really started. Puck would smirk whenever he was asked about his tolerance. "Practice makes perfect," he'd say. One of his tricks was never to drink the day after a heavy session. He had no idea why, but it worked for him. So standing in an airport where his first port of call was usually the bar to get tanked up for a flight made him extremely uncomfortable, particularly when it looked like he was going to have to wait a while for Kurt.

Puck checked out the area and saw a bar. He usually frequented the one in the first class lounge but this one would do. He'd work out before he got there which rule to break – no drinking the day after or don't be sober in an airport. He already knew that it would have to the latter. He was driving and Kurt wouldn't get into the car if there was a whiff of alcohol on him. He sighed and hesitated. Maybe chicks had something being all evangelical on the benefits of shopping therapy. He could check out the crap in the stores. He took a last longing look at the bar and saw a crazy woman; at least, she looked bat-shit insane. She was standing by a table, gesturing wildly at someone. Puck looked around and realised that the woman was pointing at him, beckoning him over. No fucking way, he thought until his curiosity got the better of him. Squinting, he took a few steps forward.

_Rachel?_

+...+

The waiter set down Puck's coffee and a fresh one for Rachel and left them. Rachel had been staring at Puck, amazed at his presence.

"You know, if you'd just shouted at me, I'd of known it was you a lot quicker. I was getting out my cell to call the men in white coats."

Rachel chuckled. "I'm not that well known on the west coast, I know," she explained, "but there are a lot of east coasters hanging around here and I'm too hung over to deal with either fans or paps. I didn't want to draw attention to myself."

Puck's eyes widened at her and he laughed. "Yeah, I'm not gonna say good job with that."

He was not wrong but Rachel pouted at him anyway. "Well, if you hadn't been so wrapped up in your own thoughts, you would have realised that the hot chick waving at you was me! So, what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to pick up Kurt. He's coming in from Paris via New York."

Rachel squealed. "Kurt?! Oh my God, it's been so long!"

Eleven years to be exact, she thought sadly. She and Kurt had been close to inseparable when they'd stormed New York together, she at NYADA and the theatre and he at _Vogue_ and the fashion world. She never knew if it was a conscience decision on his part to cut ties with her after she split up with Finn or, like her, more a speedy withdrawal that eventually consigned their friendship to the past. He'd become very busy with fashion and it could have been that. She'd found it increasingly difficult facing him when she couldn't tell him why she'd ended her relationship with his brother. He didn't press her but she could see the hurt in his eyes that she wouldn't confide in him. She and Finn had agreed to spare their families the truth when they split up and Kurt didn't have the greatest track record of keeping things that mattered from his parents. Finn didn't have to face him at all. He was off fighting wars. She'd kind of resented being the one to be the focus of constant disappointment in Kurt's eyes. It hastened their detachment.

Now, she thought, _now_ it could be different. Kurt would be able to see that she and Finn had reached a peace, easy or not. Now, if he still wanted to know, she could point him in Finn's direction. She doubted he was bothered one way or another after all this time. Rachel had lost touch with Kurt but she'd followed his career closely. He'd risen fast at _Vogue_ and was in line to becoming the youngest section editor in the magazine's history for men's fashion when he shocked everyone by quitting and moving to London to work for Vivienne Westwood and then to Paris to develop his own designs for both men and woman for Christian Dior. Rachel had been one of the first on Broadway to embrace his creations and Rachel still had the note he'd sent her, thanking her warmly for bringing attention to his work. Rachel had been tempted to follow up with a phone call or a letter, suggesting they meet and catch up but she'd decided against it. If Kurt wanted to see her, he would have said so in the note.

"Wish I could be as excited," Puck said sourly. "It's like having my Jewish mother around. He bitches at me. He pulls this Kurt-face and actually tut-tuts." Rachel giggled as Puck tried to imitate Kurt at his most priggish. "It'll be two weeks of lectures about what I'm doing with my life and when I'm going to settle down." Puck made a retching sound. "He's so fuckin' smug since he got married."

"So, Blaine's coming too?"

"Nope. First time he isn't." Puck sighed. "Blaine usually gets Kurt off my back so maybe Blaine's too busy being a French pop star to come back to the States this time. I think Kurt's here for work. I tripped over one of the four fuckin' wardrobe chests that were delivered to the house this morning. Just like Kurt to turn the place upside down." Puck ceased his grumbling with a grin and turned his attention back to Rachel. "Anyway, why are you here?"

"I'm meeting a friend coming in from New York; somebody you used to know, in fact."

"Who's that then?" Puck's sour face and airport stomach became sourer and churned harder when she told him.

+...+

Thank God for first-class. Kurt Hummel had not had the best flight and he would swear they'd spent more time circling LAX than getting there from New York. Now, he was having to wait for his suit bag. The plan had been to send everything ahead and have no luggage apart from his carry-on but at the last minute pleading of the manageress of the New York House of Dior, he'd been persuaded to bring one more dress. He glanced over at the other conveyor belt. The flight had been packed and the crowd around it was crushing. The airline put the luggage of their first and business class passengers on a separate belt, making it much easier and quicker for those who paid for the privilege. He was about to check the belt again when a face in the crowd came into clarity. It was a face he hadn't seen in a long time. Kurt ducked behind the structure of the conveyor belt praying he hadn't been seen.

"Kurt Hummel!"

Cursing his fate, Kurt plastered a tight smile on his face and prepared for the onslaught of insults that was sure to follow. He wasn't too sure which one of them would be throwing them. Kurt had always suspected that Jesse had played a part in splitting up Finn and Rachel and he'd already had enough reason to dislike him. "Jesse St. James, fancy seeing you here."

Jesse grinned and grabbed Kurt's hand before Kurt had even thought to extend it. "I'm such a big fan of yours."

Kurt was in shock for the next few minutes as Jesse extolled Kurt's virtues as a designer, telling a story about how he'd hocked his guitar to buy one of Kurt's signature vests. The shock wasn't the sycophancy. Kurt was getting more and more used to that. It was that Jesse had changed. It was a change that Kurt found fascinating.

+...+

Puck found them a spot near the gap where they could watch the arriving passengers. He had shouldered his way through the crowd, protecting Rachel with his body. He was used to running interference for Finn and had it down to a fine art. Rachel was still trying to persuade him that he was wrong.

"He's not the guy you knew anymore, Puck. He's not so…."

"Obnoxious? Smarmy? Traitorous? Asinine? Rude? Sadistic?"

Rachel grinned. "Yeah. He grew out of all that after his first year in New York."

"Sure he did." Puck didn't believe a word of it but couldn't be bothered to argue. He just wanted to get Kurt and get out of the hellhole that was LAX. He peered at the steady flow of people the other side of the barrier. Where the hell was Kurt?

"There they are!"

Puck followed Rachel's gaze. His world view suffered the tremors of an earthquake. Sure enough, Kurt was walking, talking and _laughing_ with that dirt bag, Jesse St. James.

Rachel ran forward and leapt into the arms of Jesse. He swung her around as they hugged. Puck followed Rachel more slowly, patting Kurt on the back.

"Hey, Kurt. You okay?" He tuned out the jabbering coming from the couple next to him.

"Come here, you big lug," Kurt said, giving Puck a hug. Puck bore the inevitability of it. Kurt backed away and Puck saw him gaze at Rachel. She had finally stopped talking to Jesse and was looking up at Kurt. Puck could swear there were tears in her eyes.

"Kurt," she said. "It's so good to see you." Puck watched as she ran into Kurt, rising on tiptoes to put her arms around his neck. She meant to whisper but Puck heard it clearly. "I've missed you so much."

"Me too," Kurt replied, returning the hug.

Puck, feeling like a third wheel, turned to Jesse. "Hey, Jesse," he said as casually as he could muster. Jesse smiled and held out his hand. Not wanting to seem to care enough to be churlish, Puck slapped it.

"Good to see you, Puck. I'm looking forward to tasting your cooking. Kurt tells me it's out of this world."

Puck stared at him and then back at Kurt.

"I've invited Jesse and Rachel over to dinner next week, next Friday to be precise. Jesse wants to make amends for being a jerk to us all. I've told him life's too short for that and it's not necessary but it'll be a great nostalgia trip."

"Wait," Rachel said with a worried note, glancing at Kurt and Puck in turn. "Don't you need to ask Finn?"

Puck wasn't sure what offended him more. The fact that Kurt had offered up his chef-tastic skills without asking him or the fact that Rachel thought he needed permission to do anything he wanted. A look at both the determination and pleading mixed into Kurt's glare made him go for the latter.

"It's my house too," Puck said to Rachel. "Sure, dinner, Friday after next. We'll get Quinn over. Santana too." Puck wasn't sure if he added the last name to hide that he didn't want to face the evening without Quinn or if he realised that Santana would make mincemeat of Jesse if he was a douche. Either way, he was proud of himself and smirked. Kurt was side-eying him but didn't drop the smile.

"Fine," Kurt said, nodding his head. "Perfect."

Puck didn't have a fucking clue what it was but Kurt was definitely up to something. Puck shook his head. "Now, can we _please_ get out of here?"

**Drumm: Chapter Sixteen**

_"I need to see you."_

_Drumm ignored the skip in the beat of his heart. _She's dangerous. You can't trust her. Remember that._ "Elsa Cannotti! I was wondering when you'd crack. I thought you'd hold out at least a week." Drumm heard the sharp intake of breath over the phone. She was talking quietly and he had to strain to hear her but that had been an uncontrolled response. He smiled. He liked the idea of making her lose control._

_"Were you always a jerk or did you just practice a lot?"_

_"Born and bred," Drumm said proudly. _

_"I refuse to believe you were bred. Breeding implies class."_

_"I come from a long line of quality studs, I'll have you know. You should come to the farm and try it out for yourself."_

_"Funny. I thought for sure you were an ass. Besides, if you're the last of your line," she said, "doesn't that make you a gelding? I fear I'd be terribly disappointed."_

_Drumm laughed. He was enjoying himself too much again. _She's dangerous. You can't trust her. Remember that. _He coughed. "And as much as I'd love to continue the thrust and parry of a conversation about the equine community with you, I'm sensing you're in a hurry. Where and when?"_

_"The church, 4pm."_

_"The church where we had the last meeting we were ever going to have? That church?" He couldn't help it. She just brought it out in him. He didn't have to imagine her gritted teeth even though he enjoyed the image. He could hear the wind hitting them as she forced her words out._

_"I'm trying to help you and you're making it really difficult, you stubborn mule." She seemed to fight for breath. "I should just hang up."_

_"No, no. I'm sorry. You're right," he said contritely. "I'll behave. St. Ignatius' Church, 4pm. I'll be there._

_"Be on time, come alone and when you get there, sit down in the back pew and stay there. It's important. Don't move until I tell you. Just watch. Got it?"_

_"Got it." Drumm put down the receiver, thoughtful. He didn't know what she was playing at but he was damned if he was going to give up the chance to see her. _

_He wandered out into the main office and watched Sid and Alyssa. It amazed him that neither of them nor Mitch had claimed Theo's office. Every one of them had a better right to it than Drumm did. He might own the agency, but that didn't mean anything without them. _

_"You want something?"_

_Drumm grinned at Sid. The surliness always brought him back to earth. "Nope, not from you."_

_Alyssa looked up and sighed. "I've run through it with you four times now, Drumm. I'm not doing it again."_

_"I know." Drumm had Alyssa's report virtually memorized and he knew she was checking up on some background that Elsa had disclosed. "But there was just one thing I wanted to ask." Alyssa glared at him. Drumm ignored the clear warning. "Do you like her?"_

_Alyssa threw her hands, her pen and her temper up in the air. "Sid! Will you do something about this fool! He's like a lovelorn teenager and if he's talks to me again, I'm going to break something. It'll be bone and it'll be somewhere in that, that lump of pasty flesh." She pointed at Drumm. Drumm stuck his tongue out at her like a little kid and scurried back to Theo's office, his office. At least he was starting to feel like it was partly his. That was a move forward._

_He flexed his fingers. He'd played the night before for the first time since Theo died. It had been a strange feeling – life going on but different somehow. Everybody had been on good form, even if Lise-Marie was quiet, and the audience was appreciative but a part of Drumm had watched from the rafters, bemused at how trivial it all seemed when his brother was dead. Jack had been especially lively, stretching them and pushing them. It worked but Drumm was exhausted by the end of it and his fingers and ribs had both ached. He was thrilled too, the part of him that had missed music so much. He didn't want to give it up completely. Not ever._

_Drumm sighed and reached out for the file he'd created for Sophie Cantor. Theo had known where he'd taken the picture of Jason Montana but Drumm didn't. He had grabbed a magnifying glass from Sid without objection despite Sid's disdain for his Sherlock Holmes joke and he used it to examine the photo more carefully. It could be any street corner, he thought with frustration. There was some writing he could see in a reflection but it was too small to read, even with the enlargement afforded by Sid's glass. Maybe Mitch could do something with it._

_"Sid? Where's Mitch?"_

_Sid looked up, disbelieving. "What do you mean, where's Mitch? He's where you sent him, on the lookout for Sally Prior."_

_Of course he was. Drumm put his forgetfulness down to just how much Elsa's call had thrown him._

_"I need him," Drumm said. Sid raised his eyebrows and Alyssa kept her head bent down. It was a disparaging thought but as the least useful member of the team, Drumm was the one best suited to sitting in cars, doing nothing. They knew it and Drumm knew it. "So," Drumm said slowly, embarrassed at his thick-headedness. "I best go relieve him. Later, guys." _

+...+

_Drumm pulled up behind Mitch's car and slid into the passenger seat. "Anything?"_

_"Nope," Mitch replied. "I had the thrilling sight of the old lady waddle out with her laundry and waddle it back home again. Other than that, nada."_

_"You sure it was her laundry?"_

_Mitch was relaxed about most things in life. His dedication to his job was not one of them. He gave Drumm a look which made clear how unimpressed he was with Drumm's doubt of his professionalism. "Oh," he said coolly, "like instead of laundry, it was Sally Prior's clothes and things that she was taking to her? In which case she'd come back with empty bags? Yeah, Drumm, the bags weren't empty. I know what I'm doing."_

_This last was said in the voice of a petulant child. Drumm smiled. Like Drumm, Mitch was a younger brother although in his case, all the older siblings, the younger ones too, were girls – five of them. Mitch'd had a bellyful of being doubted as a teenager and was very over it. "Okay," Drumm said in a conciliatory tone. "I'll take over here for a while. There's something far more important and challenging I need you to do at the office." _

_Mitch, his honour restored and his mood lightened, stared at Drumm hopefully. He loved a challenge. "Yeah? What's that?"_

_"Can you see if you can blow up that picture of Jason Montana? I need to find the guy. Do we even have a negative?"_

_Mitch raised his brow. "I thought we were done with Sophie Cantor."_

_Drumm knew he was blushing. "Naw, never done 'cause I am still looking at her, or more accurately her whole family, who have a possible motive for Theo. But this…." Drumm took a deep breath. "Sophie Cantor turned up at my door and I sort of promised her."_

_Mitch stared at him intently and Drumm could see his mind working, proving how professional he really was. Mitch burst into laughter as Drumm's blush deepened. "You're worse with women than I am and that's saying something. God, Drumm, any other ladies in distress on the horizon? And Sophie Cantor? Really? I thought her and Theo did the dirty."_

_"Don't," Drumm groaned. "Don't remind me. Somebody mentioned geldings to me today. I'm thinking she has a point. Anyway," he added quickly to change the subject, "can you do that and get back by 3:30? I've got to be somewhere at four."_

_Mitch checked his watch. "You got it. Now get out of my car."_

+...+

_Drumm had been watching the Forward house for over an hour. He'd caught himself drifting off twice and had to jerk himself awake. He'd tried listening to the radio but as he didn't need saving and he didn't want to hear the top forty over and over again, he turned it off. _

_Leaning back onto the headrest, he started thinking about Elsa but he was pretty sure that was a terrible idea. As well as making him lose focus, it was entirely possible it would lead to him getting arrested for activities inappropriate in a public place. There had to be something else he could do._

_He thought instead about Pandemic, about their next step. In Jack's enthusiasm the night before, he'd talked about writing some new songs and trying to get an album together solely of original material. They had six of their own already, one each from Jack and Lise-Marie, two written by Drumm and two by him and Jack together. He and Jack were no Lennon and McCartney – and to be clear, Drumm said to himself, he was Lennon – but they weren't bad. Drumm started trying to play in his head. The music usually came first with him and it was weird trying to do it without his drum set or a keyboard within reach. _

She walks in beauty like the night.

_Shit, that's somebody famous, he thought. That wasn't going to take him anywhere except to the many pictures of Elsa Cannotti already in his head. He groaned. He reached over and grabbed the pen and pad of paper on the passenger seat to try again. _

Dark lady laughed and danced and lit the candles one by one.

_Cher?! For fuck's sake! What was he doing? Drumm snorted as he crossed the words out violently. Maybe Jack was Lennon after all except that Lennon's partner was actually good._

Playing in the dark night, gets just what she wants

Staying in the black light, gives just what she needs

Loving you to pieces, her beauty will taunt

Leaving you in pieces, your heart it will bleed

_What was wrong with him? He was writing like a two-year-old. He bit his lip, crossed out the lines and started again._

Hunting in the black of night eyeing what she wants

Concealed behind the lack of light, offers just a song

Words of love are never said, the beauty always haunts

Hopes within are shattered, the heart no longer strong

_He threw the pad back on the seat with disgust. Staring at the Forward house, Drumm wondered why it always came back to her. Oh, hell! Who was he kidding? He knew exactly why it always came back to her. He was addicted. He was back to being hooked on something that was bad for him._

+...+

_Drumm pulled up a block away from the church. He knew how nervous Elsa was and figured if she had reason to be, he should be circumspect. He checked his watch at the door. He was a few minutes early. He leaned back against it. She'd been very specific. He glanced around. There was nothing worrying as far as he could tell – no lurking goons, no jealous drug lords, nothing to spook her. He checked his watch again. Five minutes. He was wondering if he was being too conspicuous standing around like a creepy stalker when he heard a distinct sound. He didn't have a licence to carry but with the lessons he'd been having with Alyssa, he knew what it was instantly. It was a gun shot._

_Without stopping to think, Drumm yanked open the door and ran inside the church._


	17. Mixed Emotions

**The _Glee_ characters belong to _Glee_, the rest of the characters belong to me. This story is improved no end by wood-u-like-2-no's contribution as beta and soundboard. Thank you for reading and in particular to those leaving feedback. Only way to know somebody's out there.**

**Conceit: Chapter titles are song titles. Rolling Stones y'all.**

**+...+**

**Chapter Seventeen: Mixed Emotions**

Finn and Kurt had been ships in the night for over a week. Between Finn shooting episode four with a new director where he was in nearly every scene to Kurt dressing everyone who was anyone in Hollywood for awards season, they passed. The one day Finn had off was Kurt's busiest when he didn't arrive back until the next morning after Finn had left for the studio. Finn was more exhausted than he'd been since his days in the army and he was re-assessing Saul's advice to avoid television. Saul had miscalculated by being a snob about TV. He would have been better off if he'd just told Finn the truth. It was a lot harder on the body and the soul than shooting movies.

Over the last ten days, he'd averaged about three hours sleep per night. That wasn't anything like enough for Finn who, left to his own nature, would put in a good seven hours a night. Catnaps in his trailer kept the hallucinations away but he was spending more and more time in make up to disguise the bags. At least this was the last day before his long weekend. Mary McCormick had another project and that gave Finn Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday to recover. He idly wondered if it was possible to sleep 96 hours straight without being in a coma. He wanted to give it a try. Next week's filming of episode five would be particularly challenging and he was going to need all his reserves.

The location shoots for episode four were in the can and he was back at the studio for the last scene to be shot – the one in Theo's office, taking Elsa's phone call. They'd done the scenes in the general office in the morning and there were only the solo scenes left to do. Rachel wasn't there. She's already recorded her part of the telephone conversation. Finn would be working with someone else feeding him her lines and it would be spliced together in editing.

Then it would be blessed freedom for four days. Mostly anyway. Sunday was the Oscars and he was committed to presenting an award. Kelly would be unhappy, but he intended to try to skip the red carpet, do the presentation and duck out of everything else. Saul would've been on his back too but he'd already lined up Finn's next two projects and there were three more in the offing already.

Of course, there was also that fucking dinner tomorrow night to contend with. He'd given serious thought to ducking that altogether. He couldn't believe that Kurt had invited Jesse St. James over when Puck told him. What was he thinking? Finn didn't hate people as a rule but Jesse was the exception to prove it. It wasn't about Rachel. Finn heard at the time and without surprise that Rachel had moved on to Jesse after they'd split up and he once saw a photo of them together in some feature on up-and-comers on Broadway. He'd accepted the inevitably of that relationship a long time ago. It was that Jesse seemed to make his life's mission to have Finn feel inadequate. Despite his success, Finn knew how lucky he'd been and still had moments when he wondered if it would all go away when people realised that he wasn't really all that talented. He had Jesse to thank for that psychosis.

Kurt, on one of the flashing-by moments when they were in the same room together, had been insistent so Finn had reluctantly promised to attend. It was going to be another McKinley High reunion; poor Ben to have to sit through one again. Maybe there should be a few more guests to mix it up a bit.

"Finn, they need you in wardrobe."

The voice on the other side of the trailer door belonged to one of the production assistants. It was a sign of his tiredness that he wasn't sure which one. Finn levered himself up and emerged from the trailer. He made his way to wardrobe and let them fiddle with sleeve length on a jacket he was going to need later.

"Hey, Finn!"

Finn poked his head over a rack of clothes and saw Alex Robb. He was also being fitted with a new jacket. "Hey, Alex. I didn't think you were here today. They pulled you in just for this?" Finn felt a particularly hard pull of his sleeve, one that threatened to dislocate his shoulder. "Ow!" Janet Cressby was glaring up at him. "Sorry, Janet, of course wardrobe is the bedrock of the production." He gave her a lop-sided grin.

Janet snorted. "Damn right," she muttered under her breath, "and don't ever forget it. Now shut up and stand still."

Finn made an uh-oh face at Alex who grinned. Both actors let the wardrobe team do their stuff in silence, showing appropriate respect. Even though Finn was pretty sure Janet deliberately left in a pin where it scrapped his arm as the jacket came off, he bent down and kissed her cheek. "I love you." Janet pushed him off derisively.

"Don't try your charm on me, Finn Hudson. You know I'm immune."

"That's why I love you," he said with a smile. "But it's going to take flowers for you to forgive me for putting my foot in my mouth this time, isn't it?"

Janet smiled evilly. "Aspersions on wardrobe that insulting must be paid for with chocolates, for all of us."

Finn gave an exaggerated sigh. "You got it."

"Hello?"

Finn looked up at the new voice. Katie Cleaver was standing at the door, hesitant about entering. She was dressed in a simple sundress and sandals, her long auburn hair clipped up in a messy bun.

Alex was the first to react. "Hi, Katie! Congratulations on getting the job. Have you met everybody here yet?"

Katie shook her head. "Not had the pleasure." Finn noted she was back to being British. "But of course, I've heard wonderful things about Ms. Cressby and I've long admired her work."

Finn glanced down at Janet and nearly burst into laughter. For all her blustering, Janet was a sucker for both the accent and for beautiful new bodies to dress. Katie was going to have a very easy time with the famed Gorgon of Wardrobe if she continued to suck up this well. "Let me introduce you. Janet, this is Katie Cleaver. As you know, she's our Sally. Katie, this is Janet Cressby. Watch out for pins."

Finn grunted as he felt the punch in his stomach.

+...+

Alex had offered to take Katie on a tour of the set once she was finished in wardrobe, dismissing Janet's warning that it would be some time given that Katie was a last minute replacement and a foot taller than the actress she replaced. Alex followed Finn back to the set and took a seat at the small patio table that Finn had outside his trailer. Both on soft drinks, they chatted while Alex waited for Katie in between Finn being called on set for bouts of filming.

With Alex's clear interest in Katie, Finn's curiosity had intensified and was nudging him. It seemed as good a time as any to ask the question he'd avoided asking all week. "So, how was your date with Rachel?"

"Rachel? It was great! She's great. She came to the MSIC picnic with me on Sunday and the kids loved her. She ended up singing requests for them and I swear they had her do every idiotic song in the top twenty. She didn't complain once about being a human jukebox although how she knew the words to every single song, I can't fathom."

Alex's little sister had MS and Alex was very active in a charity that sought to both educate the medical profession on MS in children and to help such kids who were diagnosed. Because it was relatively rare in the very young, MS usually not presenting until after the age of 18, children with MS were often misdiagnosed and denied treatment that could have been more effective in managing the disease if started earlier. That is what had happened to Alex's sister. Finn was familiar with the charity because he'd done a number of events for them since he'd met Alex. In fact, he was going to go to the picnic but he'd passed when he checked his schedule and realised it was his only day off in a heavy week. He'd slept instead.

Finn, staying casual, asked "So, when's the next one?" He knew it was none of his business and kicked himself for not letting it go. He was nonetheless ridiculously pleased at seeing Alex shake his head.

"She's promised to come back and do a slot at our benefit gala but I don't think they'll be any dates. She just wants to be friends." Alex was rueful. "I'm a friendly guy, I guess. Although…"

"What?"

"I don't know. It was just the impression I got but I think there's somebody else."

Finn grunted in disgust.

"You know? Who, who is it?" Alex had his own curiosity triggered.

Finn sighed. "Well, I don't _know_, but her old boyfriend is back in town."

"I thought that was you."

Finn nearly choked on the drink he was swigging. "No, no," he sputtered. "The _other_ old boyfriend."

"Before or after you?"

"Both."

Alex laughed and Finn stared at him, offended. Looking at his face, Alex laughed even harder. Finn was failing to see the funny side but the sound was infectious and Finn had to admit that he was being a dolt. It was kinda funny when he thought about it. Watching Alex laugh gave him an idea. "You wanna meet him?"

"Who, Rachel's old boyfriend? Sure! You've made me curious now to see who knocked Finn Hudson, sex god off his perch."

Finn stuck out his tongue. "Tomorrow night, my place, dinner at seven. Me, Puck, Quinn will be there and my brother. Santana Lopez, do you know her?" Alex shook his head. "She's a lawyer here in LA and another one of the old Glee club. Rachel and Jesse. Ben could use some non-high school related company. You'd be doing him a favour and it never hurts to be nice to writers."

"Yeah, I can do that. Thanks. Aren't you a bit testosterone-heavy for tradition though?"

Finn hadn't thought about that but Alex was right. Counting them up, there were now three women and six guys. "I'll ask Katie. She's new in town, maybe she's free. What do you think?"

Alex, his eyes fixed on Katie as she appeared from the direction of wardrobe, thought it was a fine idea.

+...+

"I know you've been busy and I've been busy but this getting stupid. You're actively avoiding me, aren't you?"

It was 3pm on Friday and Finn had only been out of bed two hours. He felt human again for the first time in a week after a mammoth twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep. He'd gone down first to the kitchen where he'd turned around as soon as he arrived because Puck was having a chef tantrum about missing chard. Puck had already given him hell for adding two more to the party with less than 24 hours notice and Finn didn't want to suffer another tirade. He'd retired to the gym for some much needed exercise for ninety minutes. He'd never been so grateful for the gym fridge stocked with bottled water. Kurt had been out when he woke up so after Finn showered and changed, he'd grabbed a coffee from the kitchen by sneaking in and out without being seen and lain in wait in the den for his brother with _Call of Duty 9_. Hearing the door, he welcomed Kurt by cornering him as soon as he walked in.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Finn swore that Kurt did a dance move to step around him and head for the stairs.

"Kurt! Come talk to me!"

His hand on the banister, Kurt paused and he sighed dramatically. "Oh, all right." He was petulant but followed Finn into the den. "I know you're mad at me about Jesse but trust me-"

"I don't care about Jesse!" Not strictly true but accurate enough for the moment. "I care about you. What's going on? Why is Blaine not with you?"

Kurt waved a hand in the air dismissively as he collapsed onto one of the couches. "He's busy. He's being hailed as the new Sacha Distel – yes, I didn't know who that was either until I looked it up on Wikipedia – and every French woman over ninety adores him. He's lapping up every minute of it. I didn't want to interfere with his basking time."

"It's not like you to be jealous."

"I'm not jealous," Kurt said indignantly. "I'm bored with it. Do you have any idea what it's like to be mobbed by geriatrics? At least your fans have yet to see their half century. Most of them anyway."

Ignoring the diversionary tactics, Finn continued to stare at his brother, knowing that wasn't the whole story. Kurt fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat under the steady gaze. "Oh, all right! We had a fight or we're having a fight, whatever."

"You two never fight."

"Well, we do now. It's perfectly normal. Being gay doesn't make us any less inclined to disagreements, you know?"

"I know," Finn said thoughtfully, "it's just so unlike you. Is it serious?"

"Yes. No. I don't know." Kurt looked into the distance.

"Bro, if you don't want to share, that's fine. I just want to be sure you're okay. Mom and Dad will kill me if I don't."

Kurt sighed, more naturally this time. "Blaine wants to have a baby."

_Crap_. Finn had avoided all thoughts of children for a long time. He wasn't going to be much help. He had his own demons on the subject. He had to try though, so pushing down his feelings, he proceeded cautiously. "And you don't?"

"Yes, of course I do. One day. Not now! It's a bad time. My career is just really getting into gear as is Blaine's. We don't have time for a baby and if we're going to have one, I don't want to have to turn our child over to nannies."

Finn closed his eyes. He'd heard something similar before and he really wasn't ready to handle this conversation.

"Finn! You know I'm right, surely?"

"I-I don't know, Kurt. At least you're deciding together. And-and you can wait so long for the right time that it never comes, you know? Maybe you should talk to Mom."

Kurt stared at him, surprised. "I had no idea that you were hankering to be an uncle. If you're this broody, maybe you should do something about it yourself."

It was too much. Finn stood up and walked out of the room, no doubt leaving Kurt perplexed.

**Drumm: Chapter Seventeen**

_Drumm wasn't ready for the darkness of the church after the glare of the sun outside. Temporarily blinded, he dashed behind a fake stone pillar to let his eyes adjust. Once he could see, he peered around the plaster, trying to scan the church. He saw nothing. He heard the bang of a door._

_Frowning, Drumm stepped forward slowly. He walked down the centre, staring intently ahead. He wasn't stupid. He remained as light on his feet as he could be, ready to duck between the pews. Finally he saw it and his heart nearly stopped. It was the ankle and high-heeled foot of a woman on the floor, the rest obscured by the front pew._

_"Elsa," Drumm shouted, forgetting to be nimble as he ran down to the first pew._

_"What's going on?"_

_Drumm ignored the voice, focused only on the form at his feet. He gently turned her over, noting the blood pooling around her head. What he saw gave him no reason to feel better. It wasn't Elsa. It was, he was pretty damn sure, Sally Strong._

_"What have you done?"_

_The voice was becoming more insistent but Drumm was too busy to contradict, checking Sally's pulse. Thank God, he found it._

_"She's alive. Call an ambulance!" Drumm heard no flurry of movement behind him and turned his head. A priest, the one who had interrupted him and Elsa in the garden he assumed, was standing there, face white. "Move!"_

_Startled into activity, the priest ran back through the door from which he'd come. Drumm gazed down at Jack's sister. As far as he could tell through the copious amounts of blood that was still flowing, the shot had grazed deeply along the side of her head but he was no expert. She had a scarf around her neck which he removed gently before using it to staunch the flow. He glanced around. He couldn't see a gun. What the hell was going on? And where the fuck was Elsa?_

_He heard a moan and looked back down at Sally. Her eyes fluttered open and she stared at him in fear. She mumbled something and Drumm had to put his ear against her mouth to hear. Sally lost consciousness again and Drumm sat up, paler than the priest had been as he realised what she'd said._

_"Elsa Cannotti."_

+...+

_The cops came first, followed closely by the paramedics. Drumm watched with something akin to disinterest as the priest approached the first cop and spoke to him quickly and quietly. He turned his attention back to Sally as the paramedics arrived and pushed him aside. Getting to his feet, wiping the blood from his hands off on his jeans, he observed as they administered emergency treatment and got her on the gurney. One of the paramedics asked for her name. "Sally Strong," he said. "No, wait! She goes by Sally Prior here. Make it that." _

_As they wheeled Sally out, Drumm made to follow. The hand on his chest stopped him and for a moment, he considered fighting it off._

_"Which hospital?" Drumm yelled after the ambulance crew._

_"St. Joseph's" a voice called back._

_"You're not going anywhere, bub," another voice said, closer to his ear. "Sit down. We need to talk to you." The cop was pointing at one of the pews in the middle of the church, presumably so Drumm couldn't take off from one of the nearer back ones that was closer to the door. The cop's partner went with the ambulance. Another pair arrived as Drumm took his seat and started searching the area by the front pew. None of them approached him, leaving Drumm with his own thoughts. Not thoughts, there was only one thought. All he could think of was Sally's words. "Elsa Cannotti." _

_Drumm sensed the change in the room before he noted the reason for it. Thurlow. He tensed as the police captain approached. Whether it was his name or Sally's that got him away from his desk, Drumm had no idea. Thurlow checked with the officers at the front. Drumm could see that they'd found a gun. That surprised Drumm. He was pretty sure it wasn't there before. He watched as the gun was dropped in an evidence bag. Thurlow looked back at him. Drumm held the stare all the way until Thurlow sat down in the pew next to him, whereupon he turned his head and gazed straight forward._

_"You and trouble just keep colliding; is that not so, Tommy?"_

_It really rankled that Thurlow called him Tommy. That was for Theo, no-one else. Drumm didn't reply._

_"So," Thurlow continued, "tell me about Sally."_

_This was safe ground but Drumm wasn't in the mood for co-operating and remained silent._

_"You are not under arrest, Tommy, not yet, but if you continue on your current course, that is what is going to happen. Father Petty over there says that he came in to find you standing over Sally. You do not want to be arrested, Tommy, do you?"_

_Drumm wanted nothing more that to wipe the smug smile he knew Thurlow was displaying on his smug face but Thurlow had a point. With Lisa's law suit, it wouldn't help if he was in jail charged with assault. Drumm sighed._

_"No, I don't want that." He paused. He could play this straight. "Sally goes under the name Sally Prior. She lives with a Mrs. Forward at 11487 Sycamore. She was, until she changed her name, Sally Strong who ran away from home at the age of fourteen. Her brother Jack thought he saw her and asked Theo and then me to find her." Drumm raised a hand in the air. "So, I found her."_

_"You brought her here?"_

_"No. She was here when I got here. I was outside, I heard a shot, I ran in and she was lying there."_

_"So, you arranged to meet her here."_

_"No. I was surprised when I saw it was her." Everything he'd said had been true but nothing more than that._

_"Forgive me, Tommy, but how did you manage to be just outside the church just when the girl you were looking for was in here getting herself shot?"_

_This wasn't safe ground at all. There was no way Drumm was going to tell Thurlow about Elsa. "Lucky, I guess," he said. "I was just passing." Thurlow must be like man's primordial enemy. Drumm could sense his moves, in this case the stiffening, with an instinct that was innate._

_"Officer!" One of the cops approached them. "Will you go outside, please, into the street? Make sure you close the door behind you." The officer nodded and Thurlow rose, heading for the other cops. Within a minute, he was back at Drumm's side. Drumm saw one of the cops take Father Petty by the arm and lead him towards the door behind which Drumm assumed was an office. The third cop followed the first out into the street. Drumm glanced at Thurlow curiously. His eyes widened as he watched Thurlow pull out his gun. _What the fuck?!

_Thurlow stared at Drumm a moment before raising the gun to the ceiling to let off one round. Within seconds, the cop in the office came back out into the body of the church, nodded at Thurlow as he passed them, going to the back of the church. The very agitated and unhappy priest trailed behind him. _

_Drumm keeping his eyes fixed on the son of a bitch sadist at his side, heard the door to the street open. Soon after, the other two cops were standing in front of them. One nodded and the other shook his head._

_"Oh dear, Tommy," Thurlow said sadly. "Office Georgeson has excellent hearing. He did not hear that from the street and the gun we found is a smaller calibre than mine. You are lying to me. That is a shame. Gentlemen?" Thurlow directed himself to his officers. "Mr. Drummond needs a ride down to the station."_

_"I know my rights, Thurlow. I don't have to go."_

_"That is true, Tommy, you do not have to go. I, however, have to have you down at the station so unless you want to be arrested here and now, I suggest you accompany this officer to his vehicle."_

_Drumm was stuck and he knew it. He'd never hated Thurlow more than he did at this moment. Drumm reluctantly let himself be led to the back of a police car._

+...+

_He'd been in lock-up for what seemed like hours. He'd stayed mute except to exercise his rights. Drumm knew enough to ask for his lawyer and he'd given them Cliff's name. He didn't know if Cliff was dallying or if the cops just hadn't bothered to call him yet. Either was entirely probable._

_If he got Jack's sister killed because he was thinking with his dick and not his head, Jack would never forgive him. Never mind Jack; Drumm would never forgive himself. With nothing to do but wait and think, he'd turned things over in his mind. Over and over and over again. His jaw was so tight that his teeth hurt. He'd tried to absolve her. Maybe one of Sallis' goons had followed her there and done it but that made no sense. Sallis' had Sally's address. He knew where she was all this time. He had no reason to go after her that he hadn't already had and ignored for months. Besides, was it coincidence that the timing was so right to frame Drumm? Pretty fuckin' big coincidence. Unless Elsa told him? Occam's Razor, the simplest explanation was usually the right one and the person who'd lured him to the church was Elsa, the person Sally had named was Elsa, the person who Drumm kept wearing rose-coloured glasses about was Elsa. Drumm couldn't escape the glaring truth. Elsa had set him up, somehow, some way and for some reason. She'd shot Sally and led him there to take the fall. He'd never been so wrong about a person in his life._

_The sound of keys roused his interest in the outside world. He'd shut it out when he'd been shoved into lock-up to ignore the two drunks, the scary dealer and the guy who looked like a paedophile. His size and the look in his eye guaranteed him his privacy. _

_"You're out."_

_Standing to the right of the cop was Cliff, waving him over. Drumm rose and walked slowly through the open door. Without a word, he passed Cliff, stopped at the desk to collect his stuff and followed Cliff out of the station. He waited until they were well away from the doors before Drumm turned to Cliff._

_"What took you so long?"_

_"Captain Thurlow was rather keen to keep you. Can't imagine why. I had to insist on a rush job and wait for the gun to come back. Your fingerprints aren't on it. Sally's are and another set, unidentified I think but the cops weren't sharing. They didn't find any gloves on you or at the scene, so… voila! Sally, if you're interested, is going to be fine and the cops will talk to her as soon as the doctors okay it. Jack's at the hospital with her. Now, what's going on? Why wouldn't you talk to the cop? What were you hiding?"_

_Drumm ran his hand through his hair. Cliff thought he was an idiot already so he couldn't make it worse. He told Cliff how he had been drawn to the church._

_"She could have been the one to attack Sally! Why are you protecting her, Drumm?" Cliff's eyebrows rose to their full extent, which was pretty damn high when Drumm burst into laughter. _

_"I'm not protecting her, Cliff," he said between gasps for breath. He regained control and the laughter vanished as if it had never been. His voice came out cold and flat. "I'm going to be the one to get to her first."_

+...+

_For the second time in a month, Drumm found himself sitting in an empty room in the dark, waiting for a liar. A discordant melody for the lyrics he'd written earlier began to coalesce in his mind as he marked time. He longed to scratch at the tape on his side but Mitch had told him to leave it alone. The tape and the illegal wire it attached to his body was the cost of getting his colleagues' help._

_Drumm had been ready to storm the Pink Leopard as soon as he'd been released. Cliff was under Sid's strict instructions to take him back to the agency, instructions so strict that Cliff followed him back after taking Drumm to pick up his car. Sid and Mitch were there, despite being nearly midnight. Alyssa was already at the Pink Leopard, being Pepper. Cliff delivered Drumm to his workmates and dashed off with the advice that they talk sense into the young hothead. _

_According to information they already had from Alyssa, it was the last night of Sallis' absence and Drumm wasn't prepared to be swayed from his goal but he did see the wisdom of getting Tony out of the way first. Alyssa was calling in on the hour and as Sid talked quietly to her, Drumm paced the room._

_"She says there's a condition."_

_"Fuck conditions!" _

_"She's right and she won't do it unless you agree."_

_Drumm narrowed his eyes at Sid. "This was your idea, wasn't it, old man?" Sid shrugged and continued to stare at Drumm placidly._

_Drumm was angry but trying to take Tony out while Elsa was trying to shoot him probably wasn't the best plan. He stayed graceless about it, but he agreed. Hence the tape and an itch that was threatening to overwhelm his capacity to ignore the temptation. _

_"Hey, Mitch. Bet it's cold out there," he whispered into the dark. Drumm knew why he was being such an ass. Mitch didn't have to be sitting in a car on a cold night recording Drumm's bitching. Mitch might have to save his life. It didn't make him feel any less aggrieved at being treated like an untrained puppy, even if that's exactly what he was. _

_At the sound of a key in the door, Drumm's body froze, though his mind continued to work furiously as he came to the thought. _

Actually, the fucking life Mitch might have to save is her's.


	18. It's My Party

**The _Glee_ characters belong to _Glee_, the rest of the characters belong to me. This story is improved no end by wood-u-like-2-no's contribution as beta and soundboard. Thank you for reading and in particular to those leaving feedback. **

**Conceit: Chapter titles are song titles. Leslie Gore, 1963. You can cry if you want to.**

**+...+**

**Chapter Eighteen: It's My Party**

Finn knew it was going to be hell but even in his worst nightmares, he hadn't imagined it would be as bad as this.

"Then Mary said," Quinn was choking out between fits of giggles, "Mary said, 'More boner, Finn! I need to see boner in your face!'"

The room dissolved into hysterical laughter as Finn reddened and smiled half-heartedly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. The only one not laughing manically was Rachel. Quinn was regaling the table with tales from the shooting of the Drumm/Sophie sex scene.

At the time, Finn had found it as funny as Quinn but now he felt kind of humiliated. "Unless you want me to tell them about your boobs, you'll stop there," he warned.

"No, no, please don't!" Quinn begged, the tears flowing from her eyes from laughing.

"Spoilsport," Santana said with a pout and a twinkle in her eye.

"Oh, come on!" Puck protested. "You can't throw us a bone and-" The room erupted again and Puck looked around bemused. "What?! What'd I say?!" Even Finn was laughing, genuinely this time.

"Look," Finn said, throwing his hands up. "Everything has to be funny in a sex scene. It's the only way to handle it. Otherwise, it's just too fuckin' embarrassing. To be honest, I hate them." He gave Rachel a sidelong glance, long enough to see her blanch and clutch Jesse's arm. She was obviously thinking about next week's script too. _Oh, this is going to make filming with her so much easier, you jackass._ He soldiered on. "And I was thrown by that scene. We only got the new pages the night before. It wasn't nearly so graphic in the book," he added, throwing an exaggerated glare at Ben.

"Hey, don't blame me. That was mandated. HBO likes tits and ass. I was contractually required to have Quinn's boobs and your fat backside on screen. Be thankful I didn't put you two in the shower. They were pushing for a dick shot."

"Oh my God," Katie said, her eyes wide and staring at Finn. "Would you have to have, oh, what are they called, fluffers for that?"

Everyone fell into a fresh outburst of laughter. Finn sighed. "You people are having way too much fun at my expense. You can all go home."

"Oh, don't be a baby." Kurt said, as ever refusing to let him feel sorry for himself, even in jest. "Think of all those volunteers lining up with their feather dusters. You can't deprive them of their dreams!"

"They come anywhere near my package, I'll be depriving them of a lot more than their dreams."

"Yay," shouted Santana. "More work for me! Although I'm going to be pretty busy with Katie's lawsuit so don't tear too many limbs off." Katie had told them earlier how she and Finn had first met. Santana had already berated him for being such a wuss and apologizing.

Finn grabbed one of the wine bottles on the table and filled his glass. He was tired of being the centre of attention and decided to try some deflection. "So, Jesse, you wanted to make reparations. Any humiliating stories you want to tell us about yourself?"

Jesse laughed. "Too many to count, starting with New Directions kicking my ass at Nationals! Rightly, you guys were great."

"What exactly are you making reparations for?" Alex filled his own glass as he asked.

"Being a pompous ass to these guys, mostly."

As Jesse filled Alex, Katie and Ben in on the back story, Finn watched Jesse with half-closed eyes. The second major shock of his day, after Kurt's bombshell, was Jesse. Finn had geared himself up to bristle all night in the presence of an old nemesis. Instead, Jesse had been charming, friendly, and, above all else, apologetic to Finn of the things he'd said about Finn's talent in the past. Finn had been deeply suspicious but he finally had to admit that Jesse had lost all traces of his smugness and his arrogance. Eleven years in the chorus lines of Broadway had humbled him without dulling his wit or insight. Finn almost had a sense of bereavement – he'd hated Jesse a long time.

Maybe he still did, but for a different reason. Well, the same reason sort of. Finn turned his gaze on Rachel. She was happy, animated and relaxed with Jesse. She was touching him constantly, throwing her arms around him or stroking his face. Finn hadn't seen Rachel this carefree since she'd been in Hollywood. She came close on the boat but that was alcohol-fuelled. Finn had noticed earlier that she was taking it easy on that front, drinking a lot more water than wine. He'd always wanted her to be happy and with Jesse, she clearly was. That revelation wasn't supposed to hurt so much.

"…sing and dance like a zombie who has to poop."

Everyone was laughing again and Finn had re-tuned in soon enough to realise that he, yet again, was the fall guy. He grimaced and shook his head. This was purgatory. When Rachel leapt to the defence of his talent by suggesting turning plain old after-dinner into after-dinner theatre, he knew he was about to descend further into hell's depths.

+...+

They'd moved to the den and Jesse, a competent pianist, eyed the keyboard suspiciously before shrugging and taking a seat. He dashed off a burst of the rondo from Beethoven's _Pathétique Sonata_ before moving to the adagio from which he effortlessly transitioned into Billy Joel's "This Night." Those who knew the song joined in with the responses and the chorus. Everyone cheered. Rachel was next and sang Barbra to more acclaim. After checking the contents of the well-stocked karaoke machine in the den, she encouraged a protesting Kurt up to join her in the Barbra/Barry Gibb duet of "Guilty." Santana, who loved to sing and rarely had the opportunity, went with Amy Winehouse before pulling up Quinn and Katie.

"No, no," Katie said, laughing and resisting. "I'm a terrible singer!" She was but it didn't make the performance of the Supremes "Baby Love" any less enjoyable.

Puck and Alex, another strong singer which was in part why he'd landed Jack Strong, decided it was time to get some rock into the house. They picked up a couple of guitars and pointed Finn to his drums. Finn, thanking his stars that Rachel had forgotten about wanting to showcase his own talents, took little persuasion to give their version of Aerosmith's "Walk This Way" its vital rhythm. He realised as he saw Rachel eyeing him that he'd thanked the stars too soon. She was conspiring with Jesse and Ben on something and it probably wasn't good. Ben left the room and returned a few moments later with some sheets just as "Walk This Way" finished.

Grabbing the sheets, Rachel gave a couple of pages to Jesse before turning to Finn, still sitting on his drum stool. She held out the sheets to him with a brilliant smile and an air of expectation. He looked down and saw the title. She had to be kidding. Finn looked around the room desperately. They were all waiting for him, Jesse especially. It was more than just enticing him to sing. It was a public test of his willingness to forgive and move on. He had no choice. He nodded.

Finn made his way to the keyboard to stand next to Jesse. "I don't know which…"

"I'll start. You can do this, Finn." Jesse gave Finn's arm a squeeze and turned his attention to words. He stood. They could do it without accompaniment. After a moment and with a glance and nod at Finn, Jesse started to sing.

_I have heard among this clan, you are called a forgotten man_

Finn responded by saying, "Is that what they're saying? Well, did you ever?" before singing.

_What a swell party this is_

They started a little tentatively but by the time they got to the chorus, both men were enjoying themselves as they acted out the iconic scene from _High Society_, even to the extent of grabbing the champagne bottle and refilling their glasses. At the end of the song, as the others were clapping wildly, Finn held out his hand to Jesse. Finn had shook Jesse's hand when he'd arrived but that was just courtesy. This time it was something else. Jesse stared into his eyes, tearing up slightly in understanding. He grabbed Finn's hand and pulled him into a hug. The audience cheered louder.

It seemed a natural and appropriate point to end the sing-along and Finn was about to suggest the pool when Kurt piped up.

"Hey, wait! We can't end without a Finchel duet! I used to hope to never hear one again but I kind of miss them now." There were catcalls and whistles to back up Kurt's request and Finn glanced at Rachel. Of course, she wasn't fazed one bit.

"Just so long as it isn't that one you two massacred," Quinn shouted.

"I thought that was all of them," Santana scoffed making everyone giggle again.

Rachel was indignant. "We never massacred a song! We were really good together!"

"Oh, yeah," Quinn scoffed. "You dressed as a nun and Finn as a priest is burned in my memory. I still can't hear that song without wanting to do violence to something!"

"We didn't massacre the song! Mr. Schu said so! It was the performance." Rachel insisted. "We deliberately sabotaged the performance so you and Sam would win the duets competition! Tell them, Finn!"

Finn looked around helplessly. Those who knew what Quinn was talking about were looking at him with scepticism. Those who didn't just looked confused. Finn cleared his throat. "It's true. We wanted to keep Sam in the club but we thought we'd win if we sang. We didn't realise that everybody would just vote for themselves and all we had to do was vote for you. Anyway, we tried to think up something so offensive that we couldn't win." He shrugged.

Ben was too curious to let it go. "Okay, now I have to hear it."

Kurt, Quinn and Santana all screamed out a long "Nooooo" in unison but Rachel was determined to wipe the stain on her honour and said, "Absolutely! We'll prove it. Right, Finn?" Without even waiting for his response, she marched up to the karaoke machine and found the track. She started it before running back to stand next to Finn.

Finn was surprised how easily it came back to him. He was doing second voice for most of it and he'd have thought he'd have forgotten the harmony. Rachel was mirroring the movements they'd done too. That was one saving grace. They spent most of the song not looking directly at each other. Even so, without the costumes, the performance of "With You I'm Born Again" took on a very different mantle, even with the ending that mocked prayer. It was beautiful. There were cheers from the ones who hadn't seen the original. The ones who had were reluctant to give up the jeers but grudgingly agreed that maybe the singing wasn't the problem. Rachel was smug. Finn realised his arms were still around her and dropped them abruptly. It really was time to end this.

"I need to wash off the sugar. Anyone want to swim?"

There were shouts of protestation from some of the guests who hadn't come prepared for a pool party.

"It's a private pool. Who needs swim suits?" Puck's eyes were gleaming with lusty anticipation at the thought. Finn elbowed him in the ribs.

"There're loads of spare suits in the cabana by the pool. Last one in washes the dishes!"

+...+

The last one in the pool was Finn himself. He'd taken some time out in his room to stare into the night from his balcony. There were tinkles of laughter coming from behind the house that gave the darkness life. Finn turned at hearing steps approaching him from behind.

Kurt was in a long terry towel robe, already wet from the pool. Finn knew he was barefoot was because Kurt couldn't bring himself to put his feet in flip-flops. Kurt stood alongside Finn at the balcony, looking out over the grounds at the front of the house. "So, Jesse's not the big, bad wolf anymore. What's that feel like?"

Finn chuckled. "Honestly? It's really weird."

"Tell me about it. I was so shocked when I met him at the airport. I was ready to scratch his eyes out and he was _nice_. That's why I invited him over. I wanted to be sure it wasn't some act. But he really has changed for the better."

"Must be love." Finn hated to say it but it seemed the logical explanation. He couldn't get over how Jesse and Rachel interacted, as if they'd been together forever.

"Did you know he's married?"

Finn shook his head, shocked. "Really? Wow, that's bad. He's cheating with Rachel and she's encouraging it? That's really bad." Finn had done something like that once or twice in high school but he'd come to realise he'd been a prick. He'd spent months and some of his hard-earned cash getting Sam a full-sized _Avatar_ movie poster signed by James Cameron and the cast on e-Bay to make up for it.

Kurt threw up his hands. "You are so frustrating, Finn! Sometimes you pick things up so fast but other times…" Kurt shook his head. "Other times you are blind as a bat, particularly when it comes to this."

Finn was getting irritated and ignored him. He'd been hoping he'd been wrong about Rachel and Kurt had just told him he was right. "Just like Rachel," he muttered. "She's using Jesse as a diversion and she doesn't care who she hurts doing it. I feel sorry for his wife."

"Finn, you moron! Jesse's not cheating with Rachel! They're just really good friends, like Rachel and I used to be, actually."

Kurt was staring at him, trying to import the significance of what he was saying with his eyes. Finn reckoned he was being dramatic. "Sure. She's all over a guy who's just good friends."

"Yes, you jackass, because Jesse doesn't have a wife! He has a husband!"

**Drumm: Chapter Eighteen**

_Elsa was dog tired. She kicked off her heels at the door before she turned to lock it. She was tempted to draw the bolts and put up the chain but Sallis was back the next day. She wasn't all that sure who Sallis would punish if Tony couldn't get into the apartment; her for locking him out or him for dereliction of guard duty. Both probably. Elsa had been beaten up enough today._

_She didn't want to think about her day. Instead, she smiled as she thought back on Pepper and Tony. She liked Pepper, thought her smart, and didn't really understand it at all but Pepper really seemed to have the same soft spot for the grunt as he had for her. Half an hour before closing, Pepper had twisted her ankle. Tony had been like a mother lion, swatting away with his huge paws anyone who tried to interfere with his care for her. His obligations to Sallis threatened to have him send Pepper off reluctantly with one of the other goons but Pepper's dark, tear-filled eyes had turned him into putty. Giving orders to one of the bouncers to see Elsa home, he'd taken Pepper to the hospital himself. From the look on both their faces, Elsa had some hours to herself. She could have another go at searching the office. First, though, food; she needed to restore some energy. She turned on the light and nearly fainted. Drumm was sitting in an armchair, staring at her._

_"Hello, Elsa." Everything about him was hard except the one thing she didn't want to admit she'd welcome in that state. "Surprise."_

+...+

_Drumm revelled for a minute in the satisfaction of seeing her so unsettled. She deserved it. He'd seen her throw her purse on the table by the door when she'd come in. Unless she had one concealed somewhere on the dress that hugged her figure and there was nowhere to conceal it, he didn't have to worry about her producing a firearm, for now at least. A painful memory reminded him that her knee was pretty lethal too._

_She was staring at him, her mouth open. He rose from the chair and took a step towards her, keeping an eye out for a physical attack. She stepped back to press against the large fireplace Sallis had probably imported from some mansion somewhere. Sallis was a collector and Drumm was looking at two of his best pieces._

_"Are you crazy, coming here? He will kill you if he ever finds out. What are you doing here?" The words from her mouth came out in staccato, like gun fire. Drumm's eyes narrowed and he took another step forward. He saw her reach down into the fireplace and watched with almost detached interest as she wrapped her fingers around a fire iron. He shook his head and held out his arms._

_"I'm not armed, Elsa. I should be, but I'm not so if you want to use that, now's your chance." Drumm could imagine Mitch fidgeting, torn between bursting in and waiting as Drumm had begged him to do. If Drumm needed him, he'd use the code phrase. Mitch had promised to stay in the car until he heard it._

_Elsa let go of the fire iron without taking her eyes off Drumm. He stepped back to give them both some breathing space._

_"Why did you set me up?" _

_Elsa looked confused. She was a great actress he realised in a flash. She could play anything and anyone._

_"What are you talking about? I didn't set you up. I was trying to help you."_

_"Help me! Help me by trying to kill Sally? Help me by trying to get me arrested for attempted murder? That's some twisted fucking idea you have of helping."_

_Drumm had never seen eyes go as wide as hers. They were like black pools at midnight, bloated by a deluge. He felt himself being drawn into them. Disgusted, he turned his back on her. He nearly jumped when he felt her hand on his arm. It burned though his clothes. He'd swear she'd left a mark. He pulled his arm away and returned to the armchair, taking a moment to let the anger and hate return. He finally lifted his head and saw her staring at him in shock. Oh, she was good. He turned his head away, watching her with sidelong glances. She took a few paces forward until she was standing in front of him. She dropped to her knees by the armchair. She didn't touch him again but she gazed at him until she forced him to hold her eye._

_"Drumm, I don't understand. What happened? I left Sally at the church. She came to me for money to get out of town. I explained to Sally who you were. It was you who set her running. Something to do with Sallis; she thought you were one of his guys. They have a deal but she was scared he'd renege. I was going to wait for you with her but she said she wanted some time on her own, to pray. I knew there was a risk she wouldn't wait for you, but it had to be her choice, don't you see that?" Drumm stayed stubbornly silent. The extent to which he wanted to believe her made him refuse to. "Drumm, please! What happened to Sally?"_

_He stared down at her, unmoved by the well-acted concern. "If you want to send flowers, you can send them to-"_

_Elsa rocked back on her heels as her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh my God, she's dead?" Drumm didn't relent. "Wait, you said attempted murder. Is Sally dead or not?"_

_"Is that what you want to hear? That you didn't mess up after all. Sorry. You did. She's still alive."_

_Elsa went white. Had she been any closer, Drumm was sure he would have had both a heel in his groin and a burning cheek or two. Instead, she hung her head. Drumm wasn't surprised by the absence of tears. Good acting had its limits for stone-cold bitches._

_"Get out." The voice was soft but audible and bristling with contempt._

_"If I leave now, it's to go straight back to the police station where I've spent most of my day to tell them what I haven't told them yet. How I came to be at the church."_

_Drumm imagined he could see the wheels turning in her brain. If ever there was a dangerous moment, this was it. He was telling her that he was the only one who could tie her to what happened at the church. He readied himself to say the code words. He almost chuckled at how ludicrous it would be to say the phrase now. _

_"Tell them."_

_She pissed on his ace in the hole. That floored him. _

+...+

How dare he accuse me of this!

_She rocked unconsciously on her heels, reeling at how miserable his accusation made her. Why should she care what this virtual stranger thought of her? Yet it was more upsetting to her than the news of what had happened to Sally and that news was bad enough. Sally had been alive and well when Elsa left the church at about a quarter to four. She couldn't understand what had happened to her and was terribly afraid that maybe it was her fault._

_Elsa brought their meeting back to mind. She had arranged to meet Sally at three. She needed time before Drumm got there to find out what Sally knew about her. It turned out to be more than Elsa was comfortable with. It wasn't nearly everything but it was almost enough to give Sally the money she demanded – or at least as much as Elsa had which was about half of it – and encourage her on her way. She wasn't sure what stopped her except that as she was considering her options, Sally had described the goon that had turned up on her door step a few days before. Elsa knew immediately that it was Drumm. Sallis wasn't after Sally – and Sally didn't share why he might be – and she didn't actually have to leave town._

_It was a calculated risk. Sally could still talk. She could talk to Sallis, to Drumm, to anyone about Sallis' whore, as Sally continued to call her. It came so naturally to her, said as a simple statement of fact without bitterness or envy, that Elsa had to imagine that it was what they all called her at the Pink Leopard. Her soul was dying fast enough. She didn't need to let minor degradation eat away at her. There was a lot of truth in it. If Sally did tell anyone what she knew about Elsa, that could ruin everything. On the other hand, why would she? For all Sally knew, the only one who'd even be interested was Sallis and she seemed pretty eager to avoid him. If Elsa told her who Drumm was, Sally would have no need to blackmail her. Alternatively, since she had a history of running away, maybe learning that her brother had found her would keep Sally on the run. That would suit Elsa too. So, ignoring the niggle at the back of her mind that she was really doing it for Drumm, to give him a chance at getting what he wanted, Elsa told Sally who he was and why he was looking for her._

_Sally's reaction had been puzzling. She'd gone pale and then cried. Elsa had held her in her arms for a while before examining her face. Sally said little but Elsa's impression was that she was overwhelmed with emotion, good emotion. Elsa had had such a good relationship with her own parents that she had a hard time conceiving those who were estranged from their own. Sally had agreed to wait for Drumm but asked Elsa to leave. Sally said she wanted to pray. She'd seen Drumm, she'd recognise him. Elsa didn't need to stay._

_Now, it occurred to her that maybe Sally was even more upset at the prospect of being found by her brother. Maybe she wanted her family to think she was dead. Sally didn't seem suicidal, just highly-strung and scared out of her mind but who else would have brought a gun into the church. She didn't. Father Petty didn't have one. It could only have been Sally. Or Drumm._

_He was staring at her. She'd surprised him by not caring about his telling the police. He was trying to work out what made her tick. She was doing the same thing. The difference was that she knew he hadn't tried to hurt Sally, knew it with a certainty that scared her because it came from faith, a faith he'd done little to earn and she should not be bestowing and yet here she was. She sighed and rose to her feet. He rose at the same time and her heart lurched to realise how close they were standing. He was so tall and with her shoes off, she could barely stretch out to put her arms around his neck if she wanted to. She stared up at him. She knew he had no reason to believe her but she tried to invest her words with every ounce of the faith she'd embraced of him. She licked her lips and laid her hand on his chest, on his heart._

_"Drumm, whatever you think of me and what I'm doing, you have to know, here, that I would never do this."_

_She didn't take her hand away and time stood still until he covered it with his own. With a groan, he bent down and covered her open mouth with his own, squeezing her hand until it hurt. It didn't matter. The dam had burst and they clawed at each other as frantically as those dying of thirst dig for water in the sand._

+...+

_The only moment that almost killed the mood was when Elsa found the wire. Her hands had roamed freely over his body and the moment had come quickly. She'd stopped and lifted his T-shirt with a frown. Drumm ripped the wire from his side and spoke into the end. _

_"Mitch, go home. I've got this now. I'm switching off." He pulled the wire from the microphone. With the code phrase being "I love you," Drumm didn't trust himself not to say it anymore. Elsa had stared at him, disbelieving, and Drumm shrugged. "Sorry, it's the job. Besides, you are the most impossible woman to bed. I needed an edge."_

_Elsa reached up for him, and the moment was forgotten, like all the other moments that had sharp edges in their short relationship._

_Lying in her bed, enjoying the dawn chorus of birds, Drumm listened to the sound of running water adding the harmony. He was impatient for her to return. Making love to her was like nothing he'd ever experienced. She didn't have Sophie Cantor's expertise but her hands did things to his body that Sophie could never hope to emulate._

_"Come back to bed." It was a bratty tone, he knew, but he wanted her again so badly, he didn't care. She appeared at the door of the bathroom. "Shit!"_

_She'd dressed and her glorious hair was tied back in a ponytail. She gazed down on him and Drumm would swear that she was battling the urge to throw off her clothes and rejoin him._

_"Come back to bed." He was happier with this one. It was his most seductive voice. He smiled a crooked smile, hoping to charm her. She closed her eyes and tightened her jaw._

_"Sallis' bed."_

_That was better than at bucket of cold water. All rising excitement stopped in its tracks and withered away._

_"You have to go. We needed to get this out of our system. Now we have. It's over. Sallis will kill you if he ever finds out. Tony will be here any minute. Get up!"_

_Drumm didn't move except to narrow his eyes. "That's what this was? Getting it out of our system like some virus?"_

_"Yes," Elsa said firmly, refusing to look at him. "I'm with Sallis."_

_"Because?"_

_"Because he has something I need."_

_"And I don't."_

_Elsa lifted her head and stared back at him steadily. "No."_

_Did he believe her? He didn't know what he believed when it came to her anymore. Drumm considered arguing but she was right about Tony. Even Alyssa had her limits. He needed to move. He got out of bed, taking a moment's opportunity to stretch his naked body. He was satisfied to see her blush out of the corner of his eye. Donning his clothes quickly, he followed her to the front door._

_"I don't believe you," he said starkly. She looked crushed. "I believe you about Sally. She must have- well, I believe you. I don't believe that I have nothing you need."_

_He watched her face and saw it harden. "If you believe anything, believe this. I am with Wilson Sallis. You? I'm just playing you because you're a good looking guy and I liked your brother. Wilson's been away too long and I got horny. This will not and cannot ever happen again."_

_It didn't matter if it was the truth, Drumm realised. It mattered that she meant it. His anger started to rise._

+...+

_"Fine, you carry on fucking your knight in tarnished armour. You're very good at it. Let me congratulate you. I hope I played my part well enough for you. Oh, and thank you for your help with Sally. Couldn't have done it without Sallis' whore." _

_Drumm reached down for the doorknob. Elsa could see that he couldn't get out fast enough. "Drumm!" She realised she'd shouted. He hesitated at the door with his back to her and his head drooped. She regained control of her voice. "Don't come back."_

_"I got what I wanted and as for sex, well that's what groupies are for, right? At least they're honest about what they want. What would I come back for?"_

_Elsa watched the door close behind him. She felt a tear run down her cheek. _

* * *

**Reviews appreciated, of course.  
**


	19. I Just Don't Know What to Do with Myself

**The _Glee_ characters belong to _Glee_, the rest of the characters belong to me. This story is improved no end by wood-u-like-2-no's contribution as beta and soundboard. **

**Conceit: Chapter titles are song titles. The incomparable Dusty Springfield doing Bacharach.**

**+...+**

**Chapter Nineteen: I Just Don't Know What to Do with Myself**

"First of all, he doesn't hate you."

They were in the cab that was taking them home. Quinn, sitting opposite Rachel and Jesse, said "That's what I told her but she won't believe me."

Rachel looked at Quinn and then at Jesse. "You don't understand. He's relaxed with Quinn, happy. With me he's just stiff." Jesse and Quinn exchanged glances and warning looks not to laugh. Quinn had to put her hand over her mouth. Rachel picked up the look and the gesture. "What?"

"Nothing," Jesse said, trying to comfort her. "It's just that maybe he's not as relaxed with you as with Quinn because _you_ aren't as relaxed as Quinn. You were tight all night, except with the singing. You both were. You both just need to stop worrying about it."

Rachel shook her head. "You don't understand how hard it is!" Neither Jesse nor Quinn could stop themselves bursting into laughter. Rachel stared at them in indignation until it dawned on her what was happening. "Oh, my God! You two are filthy-minded perverts!"

Jesse put his hands on her arms and twisted her round to face him. "Look, honey. You know that after Jake, you're my favourite person in the world." Rachel nodded. "Would I ever hurt you?"

Rachel's brow furrowed and the corners of her mouth lifted. "Well, there was the time you egged me…"

Jesse waved it away with a dismissive gesture. "Since then?"

She shook her head hesitantly. It was odd but the day Jesse told Rachel that he'd fallen in love with a guy she'd been happy for him and not hurt at all. Her relationship with Jesse in New York from the start had been more about mutual comfort than passion. She was on the rebound from Finn and he was struggling with rejection after rejection. Jesse was terrifically talented, a real triple threat, but on Broadway so was everybody else and Jesse kept missing out on featured roles. He'd get down to the last couple and then be cut. The process gradually ground the sense of entitlement and arrogance out of him. Rachel was his lifeline, constantly supportive and always cheerful. Without her, he would have returned to Ohio in disgrace. Instead, Jesse went for more off-Broadway roles and started actively courting choreographers and directors to carve himself out a place as a reliable team player for the chorus. That process too changed him, teaching him the value of supporting others but it was Jake who taught him what it was to love someone more than he loved himself. That it was a man who woke him up to what life could be bothered him not at all. Jesse had always been an equal opportunity flirt and it was a surprisingly short step to understanding that something had always been missing in his relationships before, even the one with Rachel. Whether it made him gay or bi, he didn't care. He didn't label himself as either and retained enough of his confidence about himself and his relationship not to need to identify with one group or the other.

"So, trust me on this. You and Finn need to talk because what is blindingly obvious to the rest of us," he said, glancing at Quinn who was nodding, "is that you two still have pretty strong feelings for each other. Whatever happened to split you two up-" Rachel opened her mouth to speak but Jesse put his fingers on her lips. "And I don't want to know until you're ready to tell me, but you need to deal with it. Properly. Avoiding each other for eleven years isn't dealing, it's…." He shook his head, searching for a different word before giving up with a puff of exasperation. "It's avoiding. You can't do that when you're face to face about to get naked with each other in front of cameras and twenty strangers."

Rachel's eyes filled with tears and she looked out the window as she fought for breath. She didn't want to hear it but she knew he was right. For all the face she and Finn were putting on it, they kept skirting the real problem, the one that had stopped her really moving on, him too maybe. At least, there didn't seem to have been anyone special in his life since they'd broken up.

"As for finding yourself a boy toy?" Jesse continued. Rachel saw Quinn's eyes roll in the reflection of the glass. "If you want one for yourself, go with grace but if you're doing it just to handle the situation with Finn…"

"You don't have to say it. More avoiding." She turned back to Jesse. "Do you really have to go back to New York tomorrow?"

Jesse nodded his head. He couldn't help but smile. "Jake's back on Sunday. If I don't get the apartment looking something close to tidy – he'll waste time bitching that I'd much rather spend doing something else. After three weeks on my own and then just abandoning it to come out here for those pilot auditions, it looks like the sales floor at Macy's after half-price day."

Rachel rolled her eyes at him and giggled. She and Jesse had lived together for about a year and he could be a real slob. He'd walk out the door looking impeccable leaving chaos behind him. It had been a cause of much friendly bickering.

She sighed. She'd loved having him around the last week or so. He always picked her up when she was down and he usually gave her good advice. First Quinn and now Jesse were telling her the same thing. Finn had feelings for her, they needed to talk and that she was on a fool's errand trying to find someone just to distract her. Rachel held out both hands, one to Jesse and one to Quinn, and nodded.

+...+

"Why are you laughing?" Kurt was indignant. "We don't carry signs, you know! You two just have the gaydar of a bumper car!"

Puck was slouched across one of the couches in the den in his drying swimming trunks. He didn't bother with robes. He was in hysterics and it took a while for the realisation that Kurt was offended to register. "No, dude, no, I got no problem with Jesse being gay or bi or whatever, honest! It's just it explains so freakin' much, you know?"

Kurt was not appeased and this set Puck off again. Finn put his arm around his brother's shoulders. "Ignore him, he's drunk."

"Oh, come on!" Puck was gasping for breath. "I mean, those scarves, that hair, the bitchiness, Broadway?"

"Says the man in a Mohawk. Scarves are a fashionable choice for any sophisticated man who wants to make a statement. Just because you're a Neanderthal doesn't mean every straight guy has such a backward view." Kurt was positively bristling and Puck laughing harder was not doing anything to slow the rising of his blood pressure.

"I like a scarf." Ben was sitting quietly in one of the armchairs, nursing a glass of flat champagne. "Great in winter. Keeps your throat warm. And he's a singer, right? Could make sense." Seeing Puck and Finn raise their brows at him, he added hastily, "Not that I'd ever wear one except maybe in a blizzard."

"Sorry, Kurt. Puck's right about the scarf thing. And Jesse did challenge me to a sing-off for Rachel's hand once. That was kind of," Finn paused and glanced at the furious stare of his brother before choosing the next word with care, "different."

Puck was too entertained to stop. "You didn't know in high school. Did Rachel know? Oh my God, does Rachel know now? It certainly looked like Rachel was pretty into him." He sobered up some. "Poor Rachel. She's been really unlucky with boyfriends! They're doomed to disappoint her."

It was Finn's turn to glare at Puck. Puck had long ago blamed the break-up of Finn and Rachel on delayed reaction to his decision to drive her to the train station instead of her wedding and Finn had never set him straight.

Puck was chuckling again. "Relax, dude. I know you're not gay. Although your clothes these days-." He stopped to wipe the tears of laughter from his eyes.

Kurt stared at all of them in turn and snorted. "I swear all straight guys have homophobic genes."

"Well, I'm not letting any guy near what's in my jeans, that's for sure." It set him off again and Finn gave Kurt an apologetic look.

Kurt huffed. "Finn's wardrobe has put him on the Hollywood Top Ten Best Dressed list this year thanks to me. I'm starting on yours tomorrow, Puck. I've never known anyone so much in need of new jeans. In fact, I think I'll start now." Kurt marched off, heading for the stairs.

"Oh no, you don't," Puck shouted, scrambling up from the couch and chasing after him. "You're not touching my threads!"

Finn watched them continue arguing as they went up the stairs before he sank down onto the couch and sighed.

"You okay, bro?"

Finn looked up at Ben and nodded. "Yeah, I think I am. Despite everything, it was a fun night." He ran his hand through his hair.

"Uncomfortable, huh?"

Finn laughed. "Yeah, that it was." He looked over at Ben who was looking pensive. "We haven't really had a chance to talk lately. You never said what you thought of Rachel, now you've gotten to know her a bit."

"She's as beautiful as you described, as talented as you said, she seems pretty nice but I've only seen her around you so far. I doubt I've seen the real Rachel."

Finn was perplexed. "What do you mean? That's pretty much the real Rachel."

"She's no more the real Rachel around you than you're the real you around her."

"Okay, that's ridiculous. You've had way too much to drink-"

"Finn, how many women have chased after you in the last ten years?"

"What? I don't know; a few maybe?" Ben, his wing man for all his army years and more since along with Puck, raised his eyebrows. "Okay, more than a few. What's that got to do with anything?"

"Has it ever occurred to you to wonder why you never let any of them near you for longer than a few weeks?"

"No. It's no big deal. I'm focused on my career, that's all." Off the sceptical look, Finn added, "It's nothing to do with Rachel!"

"I was there when you got back from New York, remember? What I've seen in the last couple of weeks…. Trust me, bro, it's got everything to do with Rachel." Finn was shaking his head. "Look, put it down to me being a whiny author but I really want _Drumm_ to succeed. It's my baby. I don't want this getting in the way and from what we've been told is going on down on the set, it could. You need to stop lying to yourself. If you and Rachel really are over, then make yourself believe it because right now, you're like a cat on a hot tin roof. If you're not over, accept it and do something about it. And with that piece of sage advice, I'm going to bed to dream of hot chicks and cool scarves."

Ben needed his arms to rise from the armchair and he was wobbly. Finn didn't move, staring after him as Ben stumbled his way from the den. When he was gone, Finn leaned back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. He desperately needed to think.

+...+

After tearful farewells with Jesse at the airport, Rachel and Quinn drove to Finn's house. Quinn had suggested they call ahead but Rachel didn't want to give Finn the chance to avoid her. She'd come to accept that she and Finn needed to talk but that he would be as reluctant as she was to actually do it. All the way up the drive, Rachel had to gulp back the feelings of nausea that plagued her.

They got out of the car and Rachel's courage threatened to leave her. Quinn took her arm and led her up to the front door. "We're here now. It's as good a time as any." Rachel nodded and pressed the bell. After a moment, the door opened. It was Ben.

"Hey, hi. Long time, no see." He grinned and opened wide the door, gesturing for them to come in. "We're in the kitchen."

Rachel and Quinn followed Ben to the kitchen. It was big and had a casual dining area at the end that opened onto a small patio. There was an herb garden beyond which gave the air a warm aroma of lavender, thyme and mint. Puck was tucking into bacon and eggs. Kurt was toying with a bowl of fresh melon, strawberries and blueberries. There was no sign of Finn.

"Hey!" Puck said as he chewed with his mouth open. "Couldn't stay away, eh? Sit down, have some breakfast."

Wrinkling her nose, Quinn said, "We had breakfast at the airport with Jesse.

Puck grunted. "Airport food is like plastic. This is the real deal." He proved it by crunching down on some very crispy bacon. "Well, there's coffee over there, tea in the pot and juice, water and everything else in the fridge. Help yourselves."

Quinn raised her brows in question at Rachel. She shook her head and watched as Quinn poured herself a cup of tea and took a seat at the table. "Is-is Finn around?" Rachel was hesitant but she'd started this so she was determined to finish it. Ben had retaken his seat at the table and he and the other two men shrugged.

"We think," Kurt said, "that he's taken the boat out on his own but he's left his phone here and no note."

"Isn't that dangerous, him being out there all alone? And nobody's sure?"

"There's a radio on the boat but we haven't tried it yet." Rachel's face must have fallen because Kurt stood up and approached her, giving her a hug. "He's fine, Rachel. We're pretty sure. He's taken his gear. He's done it before. Sorry, you wanted to see him?" Rachel nodded and sighed. "Will I do instead?" Rachel smiled and nodded again, showing some enthusiasm. "Come on. Let's leave these carnivores to their protein and go into the garden. I've got an hour before the madness starts." He held out his arm and Rachel took it. They went through the patio doors and walked in the direction of the main garden.

"So, it's good to see you. I know I said it before but I really have missed you, Kurt."

"Me too. I'm not sure what happened in New York. It all seems so silly now, how we lost touch." Both of them knew exactly why they'd drifted apart but they mutually and silently agreed not to dwell on the past. They were both feeling the pleasure of simply being in step with each other again.

"How's Blaine?"

Kurt frowned. Rachel looked at him with concern and Kurt laughed. "It's okay, nothing major. We're just having a fight." Rachel was curious but she knew better than to ask details. Kurt had no reason to be open with her.

They'd reached a rose-covered gazebo and sat on the bench inside. They were quiet for a while. There was a pair of gardeners working near them, albeit too far away to eavesdrop and they watched them as they laboured. Rachel finally broke the silence.

"So what's the madness?"

"Oscar weekend. I've got to get our dresses on six actresses and suits on two guys plus Finn. They're all freaking out and want me to be holding their hands at the same time in eight different places. It's a nightmare."

"Finn's freaking out?"

"Finn's the exception. He doesn't care and I have to work even harder to make sure he doesn't go in shorts and a tank top." Kurt shivered. "Everybody knows he's my brother and it makes me look bad when he looks like Puck. Now, I'm just hoping he shows up at all. He can disappear on that boat for days sometimes."

"He wouldn't skip the Oscars, would he? I mean, I heard he was presenting one of the screenplay awards."

"He could and he might. He's never been a big fan of the events. He goes because it's good for his career and because Saul, his manager, nags him. But Saul's been pretty scarce lately, sulking about the TV show, and Finn's career isn't going to take a hit if he skips so…." Kurt looked at Rachel. "Maybe he just decided to take some time out."

"Bad luck for his date. I bet she was looking forward to it."

"He was going solo. He asked me but I've got my hands full and Mom didn't want to fly out this time. Played your cards right and he would've taken you." He looked over at Rachel again curiously before continuing. "Anyway, you and Finn are kind of weird with each other. You going to tell me what's going on this time?"

Rachel sighed. "Nothing really but we need to talk. We've got this key scene coming up and the way things are…." She shrugged.

"The way things are? You mean how you two are so not over each other and walk on eggshells around each other, those things?"

"Not you too! Is it really that obvious?" Kurt rolled his eyes. Rachel groaned. "It's like, like we're in this strange nowhere land. We've moved on but to somewhere empty. I don't know." A tear rolled down her cheek.

"It probably didn't help how you got the job."

"What do you mean?"

"All the kiss and tell stuff. I read the articles, Rachel. I know where that stuff came from." Rachel blushed. "I even had someone from EW call me. Mom and Dad have had some persistent reporters too, wanting to know more, wanting photos, that sort of thing. It's died off a bit now but they're still hovering. As soon as they get a slow patch, they're going to be back. Awards season is nearly over. They'll be wanting some dirt."

"I'm so sorry, Kurt. Tell Carole and Burt, please. I was in a panic, I wanted to get out of New York, and, not for the first time, I know, I wasn't thinking about anyone else. It was stupid. If it's any comfort, they've got Finn as the hero again and me as the villainess."

"It is," Kurt said with a grin. Rachel hit him in the arm. "Oww." Kurt rubbed his hand over the point of contact.

"You're right, though. Finn said he was okay about it but maybe that's what it is. He's still mad about that. Oh, I don't know what to do," she wailed.

"Listen, Rachel, I love my brother and I don't want to see him hurt." He left off the "again" that they both knew was in the air. "Despite your wholly unjustified violence on my person, I don't want that for you either." Rachel stuck her tongue out half-heartedly at him and he put his arm around her companionably. "As I've been reminded yet again, Finn sometimes has a hard time seeing what's in front of his face, especially when it's anything to do with you. The same is true of you – don't shake your head, you know it's true. I'm all for locking the two of you in a room together until you're actually honest with yourselves and with each other but I'm scared of what's going to be left when you both come out. So, I don't know what you should do. He doesn't either which is probably why he's out on the boat. But for all our sakes, the two of you need to do something. Letting it fester is just going to make it worse."

Rachel looked up at him. "Is that advice for me or for you?" Kurt smiled.

"Both, I think."

**Drumm: Chapter Nineteen **

_Three envelopes were thrown onto Theo's desk. Drumm could swear the figure standing in front of him was shaking. "What's this?"_

_"Letters of resignation, effective immediately."_

_"What?! Wait! No! Take them back!"_

_Sid's arthritis meant he couldn't really storm out of the office but his bearing gave every appearance of it. Drumm raced after him into the main office. Alyssa and Mitch were taking items from their desks and placing them into the box each had on top. _

_"Guys, no! I'm sorry!"_

_"You should have thought about that when you risked Alyssa's cover so you could fuck the suspect," Sid said scornfully, heading for the box sitting on his own desk. "She's there to watch Sallis **and** Elsa Cannotti, not to get Tony out of the way for you. You don't think Elsa at least isn't going to wonder about the convenience of Pepper getting so friendly with Tony all of a sudden, just when you decide to visit?" Sid was going bright red and he paused to take some deep breaths. "It's your agency, kid. You can do whatever the fuck you want with it but we're not sticking around to watch you turn it into a playground for your libido!" _

_Drumm was staring at them each in turn, mouth agape. He'd really fucked up. He ran his hand through his hair, thinking desperately._

_"Guys, I screwed up. I get that."_

_"No, Drumm, you don't. Do you know what Alyssa had to do to get Tony away from Elsa?" Drumm glanced at Alyssa who avoided his eye. "Do you know how long it took Mitch to set up that wire?"_

_Drumm hadn't thought about either of those things he realised in a flash. He felt miserable and humiliated. He had let them all down. He'd let Theo down. Theo. It was a low blow but it was his last shot. _

_"Guys, what about Theo? You owe him!"_

_The packing paused as each of the team looked up at him with expressions that as close as Drumm could tell were contemptuous. _

_"Theo wouldn't-." Sid stopped abruptly and Drumm knew why. Of course Theo would and had with Sophie Cantor. Sid adjusted. "Theo knew what he was doing. He wasn't a giant toddler bent on destruction. You are going to get yourself killed and while that would probably do the world a favour, you could take one of us with you and that's not going to happen." Sid returned his attention to his box._

_Drumm could have said that Theo was dead which kind of suggested that maybe he didn't know what he was doing and also that as least Drumm hadn't fucked Elsa or Sophie in the office, but he didn't. Talking back wouldn't prevent this disaster that was befalling him; being contrite might. "Wait! What if I quit instead?"_

_They all paused at that. Sid took his time before responding. "You can't quit. The place is yours."_

_"No, but I can turn over control to you. Legally, if you want. I can get Cliff to draw something up. It's probably complicated because of Lisa's claim but I'm sure there's something Cliff can do. Please, guys. I know I was stupid and I let my-my-, I let myself lose the focus. The focus is Theo's killer. You're the ones who can track that person down and I'd give anything to keep you from quitting. If I have to step out, then I'll pay that price. I'll go back to the band and you won't ever have to see me."_

_Drumm watched them exchange glances. It dawned on him only then that they'd worked all this out in advance. They were playing him. It didn't matter. They were making a point and they were right._

_"All right, kid" Sid said. "We'll stay on board. You don't have to disappear but you do have to start taking orders. No more running off half-cocked, or in your case fully-cocked. You do what I tell you, and only what I tell you, when I tell you and you report back always. Am I clear?"_

_Drumm nodded. He felt too beat up to do anything more._

_"And you stay away from Elsa Cannotti and the Pink Leopard."_

_"Not a problem," Drumm mumbled. He saw Sid start to take things out of his box. "Sid, don't." Sid paused, surprised. Drumm felt a little better knowing that Sid hadn't anticipated what Drumm was going to do. "I'm making one last managerial decision before agreeing to be the office butt boy." Sid's eyes widened warily. "You're taking Theo's office."_

_Drumm didn't wait for Sid's agreement. He went back to Theo's office and started to collect his own few personal items to move to the main office. The envelopes were still on the desk. Drumm didn't have to open them to know they were empty._

+...+

_Sid had told Drumm he could do two things. _

_He was to follow up on Jason Montana. Mitch's efforts to expand the picture had resulted in locating where it was taken. Drumm was to ask around the area and see if he could spot him. He could follow him, find out where he lived and/or worked, but nothing more except report back. Sid agreed that the Cantor case was still a viable possibility for being the one that led to Theo's death and wanted to control what they did to pursue that investigation._

_With some reluctance because of the association to Elsa and the Pink Leopard, Sid agreed to let Drumm go to the hospital to talk to Sally Strong. It was a pragmatic decision. Drumm knew Jack who was at his sister's side and likely a fiercer guardian than the staff to anyone who wanted to interrogate her. Drumm had the best chance of getting somewhere._

_Drumm hit up St. Joseph's first. He had to work hard to charm the receptionist who grew suspicious enough to threaten to call security when he gave three possible last names for Sally. She was registered under the name of Strong which Drumm realised made sense with Jack on the scene. He found the room and watched for a moment through the glass window. Sally was lying on the bed, a bandage around her head. There were tubes coming from her arm. Jack was sitting beside her, his hand covering hers. Drumm knocked on the door jamb softly. Jack looked up._

_"Hey, Drumm." Jack rose and gave Drumm a high five. "Good to see you, buddy. Thank you. Thank you for finding her, for saving her."_

_Drumm glanced at the bed. He could see that Sally's eyes were open. He couldn't decipher the expression. He returned his attention back to Jack. "How is she?"_

_"Groggy but the doctors say she's going to recover. There may be some memory loss, that's all." _

_"Can I talk to her, Jack? There's some stuff I need to know."_

_Jack shuffled uncomfortably. "She's not really ready to talk to anyone, Drumm. The cops have been here twice already and she didn't want to talk to them. The doctor kept them out but my best guess is that she's going to tell them she doesn't remember anything. Whether that's true or not…." Jack shrugged. "They talked to me though. Had some crazy notion you were involved. I told them they were barking up the wrong tree but you know cops."_

_"Yeah, I know cops. Did you tell her who I was?" Jack nodded. Drumm glanced at Sally again. She seemed fearful but whether of him or of what he could tell Jack, he wasn't sure. "Hey, Sally," he called over. "Can I talk to you?" Her eyes widened in fear and to test the waters, Drumm quickly added, "In private."_

_Sally looked from Drumm to Jack before nodding hesitantly. Jack was reluctant to go but with a squeeze of reassurance on his arm from Drumm, he agreed to get some coffee and give them ten minutes. Drumm waited for him to clear the room before taking the chair at the side of the bed._

_"I haven't told him," he said._

_"Told him what?"_

_"That it was your gun and that you tried to kill yourself in the church."_

_Sally's eyes widened and then closed tightly. Drumm saw a tear trail down her cheek. "Don't," she whispered._

_"I won't if you tell me the truth although the cops are going to work it out eventually. Why were you in the church?"_

_"You."_

_"Me? I don't get it." He did get it but only if Elsa had told the truth and he was less willing today than yesterday to accept that._

_"I saw you at Jean's. I thought you were one of Sallis' guys. I thought he was coming after me. I decided to run. I didn't have any money so I called Elsa. She said she'd help and told me to meet her there."_

_"Why Elsa?"_

_Sally fidgeted in the bed. "She's-she's just- I thought she would help, that's all." Drumm knew she was hiding something but with his instructions about staying away from Elsa, he decided not to press her. He'd report back and the others could decide what to do._

_"Okay, so you met Elsa, then what?"_

_"Then-then she told me who you were, that you weren't trying to kill me, you were looking for me for Jack." She choked a little on her brother's name. "She, uh, she told me you were coming. She was going to wait with me but I-"_

_"You wanted to be alone."_

_Sally's brow furrowed which caused her pain and she winced. "Yes. How did you know?"_

_"I guessed. Otherwise, she'd have been in the church. So, why this? Why take a gun to the church in the first place. More importantly, why use it?"_

_The tears were streaming down her cheeks now as Sally struggled to find words. "I-I, you don't understand. The life I've lived, my family…. When I thought it was Sallis, I was scared. The gun was for protection. But then when Elsa told me, all I could think about was everything I've done, the prostitution, the drugs, the Pink Leopard, all of it, that my family would find out. It was better for them to think I was dead."_

_Drumm nodded. He understood. He never got close to suicide but he sure had had times he couldn't face Theo. "Sally, why would Sallis be after you?"_

_She closed down immediately, shaking her head as if to pretend she didn't know._

_"You know. You just don't want to tell me." He sighed and gazed out the window. "Did you know you said Elsa's name when I found you." He turned and saw genuine confusion cross her face._

_"I don't remember that. Really. Why would I-" She was searching her brain but Drumm could see the strain was starting to take its toll. She was paler and the soft beeps monitoring her vitals were increasing their pace. It was enough for now._

_"We'll talk again when you're stronger. I do want to help you. Tell the cops it was an accident; you were checking the gun and it went off. They won't believe you but they won't do anything about it. Jack will want to believe it so he will. As for the rest, take it from me. Your family won't care what you've done. They just want you safe. They'll forgive anything. Jack will tell you I know that from experience."_

+...+

_After a quick stop to brief Sid on his talk with Sally, Drumm had spent the afternoon canvassing the area where the photo of Jason Montana had been taken. He'd started with the newsvendor. Mitch had told him that newspaper sellers were a great source of information and Drumm had finally started trying to actually learn how to do the job better. Drumm had bought a paper and a couple of magazines before engaging the guy in a discussion about baseball, inspired by the guy's cap. Within ten minutes, Drumm had leaned that Montana was a regular, buying his morning paper there and often calling in the evening too. The place was clearly on Montana's way from somewhere to somewhere else. He never used a credit card, was never in a suit, and he never stopped to chat. Gus, the newsvendor, didn't think much of him._

_Drumm knew he'd have a better chance of catching Montana in the morning, when he was pretty regular about getting his paper but as he was there, he might as well wait to see if he turned up in the afternoon. Drumm had time before that might happen so he walked a few blocks in either direction, checking out the buildings to see what he could see. There were residences and businesses in varying proportions in both directions. Nothing stood out. Returning to the news stand, Drumm saw a café across the street and parked himself there, grateful for the paper and magazines. He kept his eye on the sidewalk opposite and settled in to wait._

_Montana didn't stop at Gus's stand but it didn't matter. Drumm had him. He slapped a bill on the table to cover his untouched coffee and tip and followed from the other side of the street. Given his size, Drumm was tempted to duck into doorways and alleys until he realised that it would make him look even more suspicious. Instead, he walked slowly, ready to pause and window shop at the first sign of Montana stopping. He didn't have to worry. Montana walked purposely, never hesitating. _

_Reason dictated that Montana was going home after work so Drumm was surprised when he watched him enter a place of business. He was shocked to the core when he recognised it. His worldview shattered into a million pieces before those pieces raced back together and re-arranged themselves in an entirely different order. Jason Montana had just entered the Pink Leopard._


	20. Scary Monsters and Super Creeps

**The _Glee_ characters belong to _Glee_, the rest of the characters belong to me. This story is improved no end by wood-u-like-2-no's contribution as beta and soundboard. Sorry for the unintended hiatus. Circs beyond control… **

**Conceit: Chapter titles are song titles. David Bowie in his album _Scary Monsters and Super Creeps_ added brackets (parentheses for the Yanks) to the otherwise same-titled track within. He's weird like that.**

**+...+**

**Chapter Twenty: Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps)**

"Won't he get into trouble?" Rachel was in the den at Finn's house, nursing a soft drink. It was Monday night and she'd dragged Quinn with her for moral support in tackling Finn. He was nowhere to be found.

"Maybe." Puck was sanguine about Finn's absence from the Oscars. "Saul and Kelly were yelling at me all day yesterday like it's my fault he got engine trouble in the middle of the ocean."

"_If_ he got engine trouble," Kurt said, darkly. Kurt had already ranted about the missed opportunity of having one of his designer men's suits seen by billions.

"You really think he sabotaged the boat?" Quinn was sceptical.

"Oh, I don't know. It was pretty convenient for someone who didn't really want to go in the first place but he's not stupid and he's going to catch hell for it from that odious manager of his, so maybe not." Kurt shivered on his mention of Saul. Rachel wondered idly what the story was there. She was thinking about asking Finn to introduce her to Saul on a professional basis so Kurt's reaction was a little alarming.

"He went out for thinking time. You know how long that takes him." Ben's quiet words caused them all to smile. Everyone in the room knew Finn well enough to know that.

Rachel hoped that he was thinking about them but she wasn't sure if the idea was comforting or distressing. "So, shouldn't he be here by now?" She was starting to feel anxious. They were shooting the Drumm/Elsa sex scene tomorrow. Again, the writers had made it even more graphic than it was in the book according to Quinn, fleshing out, literally and figuratively, the time between Drumm's T-shirt coming off and the aftermath in the bedroom. Ben had grumbled earlier in the evening about having to insert gratuitous sex scenes.

"He'll be here any minute, Rachel. He's already docked and is driving up from some tiny harbour somewhere that he found to park the boat." Puck, bored with being Finn's gatekeeper after a weekend of fielding noisy complaints, jumped up to his feet. "Right! Ben and I are going to see the new Ant-Man reboot. Anybody want to come?"

"I'd rather wear Target. I'm out. I've gotta pack. My flight to Paris is at noon."

Rachel saw Quinn glance at her. Rachel stared back intently, willing Quinn to decline. Quinn shook her head. "I'll come," she said. "I haven't been to an actual theatre in ages." Rachel considered arguing with her but Quinn, who'd been reluctant to come with her anyway believing that Rachel needed to face Finn alone, seemed happy to have the perfect excuse to exit in circumstances where Rachel couldn't wear her down again.

Ben stood, checking his watch. "Well, if we're going, we need to go now. It starts in twenty minutes and it takes twenty-five to get there."

"That's because you drive like a constipated granny. I'll get us there in ten. A man's gotta have his popcorn." Puck raced out of the room followed by a slightly worried Quinn and a chuckling Ben. Rachel watched them go with an increasing sense of panic. She was about to call out for them to wait for her when she realised Kurt was asking her something.

"Wanna help me pack? I've got loads of dresses back – after at least three tugs-of-war – and they need to be sorted out. You could try on a few if you want." His eyes were sparkling and he was grinning.

Rachel was relieved to have an alternative to sitting there waiting to have a conversation which in principle she knew was needed but which was becoming harder and harder to face in practice. She nodded and followed Kurt upstairs.

+...+

"If you and Rachel really are over, then make yourself believe it …. If you're not over, accept it and do something about it."

Ben's words had been playing over and over in his head for three days. He'd had to admit to himself that he wasn't over her, that he'd never been over her. There had never been anyone who had cracked or even touched the wall he'd built around himself. She was the only girl, the only woman he'd ever loved. The obstacle on his side to doing _something about it_ was the abortion. She did it without telling him. Maybe she'd never intended to tell him. He didn't know. Before, he'd always known what she was in her head. After, he knew nothing. The trust was gone and Rachel with it. It had broken his heart into a million pieces and he never even tried to put it together again. Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

He knew that some wise person not called Finn Hudson might say they'd both just made terrible mistakes, that it was time to forgive, and that Finn and Rachel could learn to trust each other again. Finn wanted to remind this imaginary sage about the way she'd come back into his life, exposing their lives together to the gutter press. It was another betrayal. He didn't because at least _it_ was one he understood. It was business, it wasn't important, and he didn't hold it against her.

His mom had betrayed him. She hadn't trusted him his whole childhood with the truth about his dad. He'd forgiven her because he understood why she did it. He was a child without a father who needed something to believe in while growing into his own identity. Quinn had betrayed him. She had trusted him though, trusted him to be too stupid to know that he couldn't be responsible for her unborn child and trusted him to embrace the responsibility he thought was his. He'd forgiven her because he understood; she was in trouble and had to find ways to protect herself, a task made easier by maintaining her position as one half of McKinley's most popular couple. Why was it so different with Rachel?

For two days, his thoughts plagued him. He'd anchored the boat miles from shore, alone yet not lonely as the women in his life paraded in his mind. He'd attempted to start back on Sunday morning. He didn't intend to skip the Oscars but the engine trouble wasn't unwelcome. He spent Sunday covered in grease as he took apart, cleaned and reassembled the motor. It felt like the first honest work he'd done in years and he fondly remembered his training in his dad's garage. Sunday was the first night, after a day of labour in the shimmering heat on the deck and down with the engine, that he slept without tossing and turning.

He woke up Monday refreshed and stood on the deck, enjoying increased sea breezes and the sunrise. He leaned over the side and stared into the blue-green sea with occasional whitecaps to break glassy mirror. He realised he wasn't looking at waves when one of the whitecaps peaked into a long nose. A school of dolphins, maybe seven, were feeding 200 yards away. He concentrated on one particular animal which was nuzzling and guiding a much smaller version of itself. He watched for an hour enchanted and was saddened when the sated beasts finally swam away.

It was his baby. That made it different but that wasn't all.

His mom was his mom. Quinn was, well, McKinley tradition dictated the quarterback and head cheerleader were the natural pair. They instinctively played along because reputation and popularity were important to both of them. Finn was fond of Quinn and superficially, she was the most beautiful girl he ever knew, but he never loved her and she never loved him. They were a convenience.

It _was_ different with Rachel. She had wildly outshone him in talent, ambition and drive but within the relationship, they were partners, equals. For each other, they were journey's end, home. The mutual trust was absolute and even when he deceived her on their wedding day, she trusted him to go to New York in pursuit of their joint conviction that she was born to be a star. It was that trust that had been shattered that terrible night and like his heart, it was beyond repair. He couldn't, he wouldn't be Humpty Dumpty again. There was nothing left to break.

Ben got the options wrong. Finn couldn't do something about it and he couldn't make himself believe he was over her. Both were unachievable. The true alternative was to move on, _really_ move on, in spite of it.

+...+

"Oh, she did not!" Kurt was examining a suspicious stain Rachel had shown him on one of the lent dresses. "No wonder she tried to hang on to it. God! I'm so glad I'm going home. I'm declaring it now; I am never coming back!"

Rachel chuckled as she pulled out more tissue paper to protect the delicate lace on another gown. "I doubt that somehow."

"Oh, I know. Some producers are chasing me to do costume design for some films. One is actually tempting. They're remaking _My Fair Lady_ and want me for the Ascot scene at least, if not the whole film." His eyes were sparkling. "Imagine me updating Cecil Beaton. He got the Oscar for that, you know. I'd love to get one before Finn does." Rachel was too busy imagining herself as Liza Doolittle, wondering how good her English accent was. Kurt, glancing over at her, knew what she was thinking and laughed. "Sorry, little Miss wouldn't-it-be-lover-ly. They've already got somebody in mind."

"How have I not heard about this?"

"Isn't that what agents are for? Besides, you've got _Drumm_."

"Only for six months. I'm pretty sure they're going to kill Elsa off even if there is a second season." Rachel sighed. She needed a Hollywood agent, damn it. To avoid kicking herself for yet another of her failures, she changed the subject. "So, home and Blaine."

"Yeah." He pouted as he examined the apparent deficient capacity of his luggage. "Home and Blaine. Oh God. I don't know what to do."

"Can I help? Other people's problems are always much easier to solve than your own."

He raised his eyebrows at her and then glanced at the door knowingly. Rachel blushed. Kurt threw himself onto the armchair in his room. "I might as well tell you. Finn was useless. Blaine wants to have a baby. I do one day but not _now_. There's too much going on. So, go. Tell me what to do."

Rachel wasn't ready for it and she paled. Of course Finn was useless. It would have touched a deep nerve, just as it did for her. It was like looking in a mirror. The only difference was that Kurt couldn't make an irrevocable decision alone. The two of them had to work it out together.

Kurt was staring at her quizzically. "Why are you crying?" He stood and took a step towards her.

Rachel hadn't realised she was and held a hand up to her cheek. It was wet. Kurt, growing more concerned, closed the distance between them and put an arm around her. "Rachel, what's going on?" Rachel couldn't speak. Instead she buried her head in his chest and sobbed. Kurt made soothing noises until she stopped. She looked up at his face and saw that the truth had dawned on him. "Oh, my God. This is what-" He stopped at her nod and hugged her close. "I'm so sorry. No wonder Finn wasn't able to-" He squeezed her harder and then held her away. "I'm so sorry, for both of you."

"I-it's worse. I aborted without telling him. He found out."

"Oh, Rachel, honey."

Rachel expected Kurt to walk away then, as disgusted by her as Finn had been. She was even more upset when instead, he hugged her again. She pulled away. "I didn't want to have the baby because I was too young and I wanted my career. I've always regretted not telling Finn first but I have to tell myself every day since that I don't regret the abortion. The fact that I _have_ to do that-," she stopped. "Look, I can't advise you about a baby, Kurt. I can't. I can just tell you that if I had my time again, I may not have done it, and certainly not without talking to Finn first. You and Blaine are older, certain of your love for each other. Finn and I thought we loved each other but we were too inexperienced to know for sure. When we were tested, we failed. We didn't love each other enough."

A movement in the corner of her eye made Rachel gasp. Finn was leaning at the door to the den, looking pale. Rachel wanted to run but Kurt held her still as he called out to Finn. "How long have you been eavesdropping?"

"A while."

Rachel looked from one to the other. She felt like a trapped animal. "I think I should go."

"It's okay, Rachel. I probably would have told him myself before he left. Did you come over to see me?" He spoke gently. Rachel's heart didn't know which way to go. It was the whole reason she'd come over after all. She reminded herself that she was a grown up and nodded her head. "I'll be in the kitchen when you want me." Finn turned and walked out of the room.

Kurt turned kissed Rachel's cheek. "Courage, mon brave," he whispered. She nodded and slowly followed Finn out of the room and down the stairs.

+...+

"We didn't love each other enough."

It was almost funny. He thought they'd loved each other too much. One thing seemed clear to him. Rachel would have been able to answer Ben in a way he couldn't. She _believed_ they were over. That was a good thing with them having to work together. She was okay. For that, he was grateful. It was even more important to show her that he was going to be okay too. He was moving on.

In the kitchen, they'd indulged in small talk as Finn sorted out some food for both of them. He straightened up from examining the fridge. "That's it, I think. There's something green and gooey which I think has a fancy name but…" He shuddered.

"There's plenty here." Rachel was already sitting at the table. Finn sat opposite her and watched as she started to pile up her plate. He'd never understood how she packed so much into such a small body even if it was mostly vegetables. He started to chuckle. Rachel, hearing it, stopped, blushed and put down the serving spoon.

"Don't stop. I've always liked watching you eat."

Rachel looked down at her overflowing plate and then back at him. "You're not eating?"

Finn started putting some of the cold food on his plate but he was more sparing than she'd been. Rachel raised an eyebrow at him. "I can't put it away and make it disappear like you can. The pounds show up on me the next day if I'm not careful."

"You've got a great body."

Finn almost blushed at how indignant she sounded. "Thank you, but I have to work for this. Left to myself, I'd have boobs bigger than Kim Kardashian. Besides, I need to leave room for tomorrow night." He paused. Now was as good a time as any to show her. It would make her more comfortable about tomorrow. "I've got a date."

He'd arranged it on the way home, his first step to trying to actually move on. "Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about?" Rachel was quiet for a moment, her head down and concentrating on her plate. He glanced up as the silence grew more prolonged. "Rachel?"

"I, uh, I'm just worried about tomorrow."

Script amendments had been sent out at lunch time. Finn had picked them up and scanned them before he went up to see Kurt. As they had with the scene with Quinn, the writers had spiced up what was in the original book. "Don't worry, we'll be fine."

She didn't look convinced and Finn thought he detected the glint of tears. He gathered his thoughts and reached out for her hand. "Listen. I had a lot of time to think on the boat and there's something you need to know. I loved you, I always did and part of me probably always will so tomorrow, I'm just gonna remember that you're you, somebody I care about with more talent than I've ever seen, even to this day. If we just remember who we were before New York, draw on those times like-like a tribute, we'll be okay. Does that make any sense?"

Rachel nodded slowly. "I thought you hated me." Finn made to interrupt but Rachel held out her hand. "No-no, not just because of wanting to think I was someone else when you were acting with me or because of Wally and all that crap. I've thought that since that night in New York."

"I never hated you. I could never hate you. You're too smart not to know that. We just didn't work in the end, that's all." It killed him to say it but it was a truth he'd come to accept.

Rachel was nodding. "Part of me still loves you too. If that can't be the basis of a-of a relationship, it must make for a good friendship at least, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I think it does. Friends forever."

Rachel stood and ran around the table, throwing her arms around Finn. He caught her and pulled her onto his lap. "I've missed you so much," she said, pressing her cheek against his.

"Me too." Behind her head, he squeezed his eyes until the threat of tears abated. She was holding him tight and he could feel her take three deep breaths against him before pulling back. Her sombre face has transformed with a smile. "So, have you read the new pages?"

Finn nodded. "Got any ideas on how Rachel and Finn are going to handle that? I mean, we've got the experience." He was happy to hear the responding deep-throated laugh.

+...+

The shoot took all day on a closed set. The beginning and the end, the scenes described in the book, were fairly easy to do. It was the inserted scene between, with Drumm and Elsa in bed simulating sex that proved challenging. Between Rachel battling with her natural modesty and Finn battling against nature itself that kept threatening to rear its ugly head, they used humour. They laughed at the ridiculousness of what they were doing; they laughed at Mary's antiseptic and pointed direction; they laughed every time one of the hair or make-up team approached them to freshen them up. On camera, they gave it everything they had, throwing in their past memories of each other, fitting them into the characters of Drumm and Elsa.

"Cut! Move that sheet. I want to see Rachel's side butt."

Rachel, underneath Finn who was holding himself up on his elbows to avoid crushing her, whispered. "I knew I shouldn't have had that cake last night."

"Nonsense. It's a fine side butt. No sign of cake. Actually, the whole butt is very nicely rounded."

"You say the sweetest things when you're naked."

"Having to be naked to say sweet things seriously reduces the chances of getting to be naked with somebody to say sweet things to. See, I told you you were smart. You encapsulate in one simple statement my problem with women!" They were trying to whisper but Rachel laughed out loud.

"Actors, concentrate!" Mary's stern voice was enough to wilt a Californian Redwood which Finn had already determined was very helpful to him, causing him to play up from time to time. He and Rachel made a game of it, giving themselves extra points for making the other be the one to bring down their director's wrath. He smirked at Rachel.

"Fifteen-twelve to me, I think" he said quietly. "Three points."

"Thirteen-twelve to you. Just like a guy, exaggerating the size of your credentials." Finn couldn't contain the guffaw that bubbled up inside him.

"Finn! Can you please stop fucking up!" Both the actors burst into laughter and Finn had to roll away from Rachel who grabbed the sheet just in time to prevent exposing more than even HBO was expecting. Mary yelled, "Five minute break. Continuity!"

+...+

Rachel dressed carefully in her trailer. She'd dreaded this day so long and it had been a blast. It had also been revealing. Apart from one part of him that was satisfactorily responsive, she still could make him turn to jelly. He could still do the same to her. She knew it wasn't all acting for either of them and now they'd cleared the air a little, maybe they could have something more than friendship, despite this date. Hopefully it wasn't with anyone too beautiful. Spending the day underneath or on top of him, it had hit Rachel that she'd never been happier that in those places, not even on Broadway. They'd have to spend time building up trust again but for the first time, Rachel not only wanted more, she could imagine it possible.

She smiled and squirted on what used to be his favourite perfume on her. Taking a deep breath, she left her trailer and walked to his, knocking on the door. Frowning at the lack of response, she knocked harder. There was no answer. _Surely, he hasn't gone already, has he?_ She looked around. She was surprised to see Alex, talking to Mary.

"Rachel! Mary's been telling me you had a great shoot today."

"Really?" Rachel turned to Mary. "You've been mad at us all day."

Mary snorted. "Had to do something to keep you two under control. I'm not making porn here."

"Man," Alex complained, "I don't get any of the fun."

"You best hope for a season two, young man. That is, if they don't kill you off. I've got a body tomorrow." She spied the lighting director and excused herself.

"So, it was hot and heavy, was it?"

Rachel felt her blush rising. "Finn was right. We had to laugh all day to get through it. By the way, have you seen him?" She saw Alex's face fall. He seemed upset.

"Bastard raced out of here as soon as you finished. I saw him in the car park. He's going out with Katie Cleaver."

**Drumm: Chapter Twenty **

_Drumm checked his watch. It was just after three in the afternoon. He looked around, desperate for a phone. If there was ever a time he needed to contact Drummond Investigations, this was it. There was no public phone he could see and he didn't want to lose sight of the Pink Leopard. There was a small café with a couple of tables outside. It was his best bet._

_Drumm sat down at one of the outside tables and waited. A waitress, a young girl of about twenty, soon approached him. Drumm laid on his most flirty smile and ordered a coffee. She grinned and trotted off to get it. Drumm tore a scrap of paper from his notebook and hastily wrote down a phone number. He shoved it in his pocket before checking the view. It was a good spot. He had the door of the club and the entrance to the alleyway that ran beside it in his sights. Since the club abutted other buildings on the opposite side and in the back, it should mean that Montana couldn't leave without Drumm observing him._

_Of the two reasons that Drumm couldn't follow Montana into the club, Sid's firm order to stay away was not the one actually stopping him. The Pink Leopard was closed. Montana had knocked and been let in. From across the street the darkness in the club was too dense for Drumm to see by whom._

_The waitress returned with his coffee. He took a quick gulp. "Hey, great coffee! I bet you made it yourself." She giggled and pointed inside to the machine that could be seen through the window. "Oh well, you must add a touch of magic."_

_"Anything else you need?"_

_"Sure, maybe you could provide some tender loving care later after my brother tries to kill me."_

_The girl's eyes widened. "Why would your brother try to kill you?"_

_"Long story short, he and his fiancée are having a fight and she's moved out. She won't take his calls but she phoned me and agreed to see him at 3:30 on the dot. She gave me her number only on the promise I don't pass it to him and told me the address where she'd meet him which is around here somewhere. Unfortunately, in my hurry to get here, I grabbed the wrong note." Drumm pulled out the piece of paper from his pocket. "I don't have time to go back, so…" He grimaced._

_"Can't you just call her and get the address again?"_

_"I thought of that but…." He gazed around, holding out his hands. "No phone."_

_The waitress glanced back into the café before saying, "Come with me, quick."_

_Drumm, barely able to contain a smirk, followed her into the café. She pointed him at a stool at the end of the counter and went round behind it to pull up a phone. He still had a view out the window of the Pink Leopard. He had to hope that Montana didn't make his exit in the next two minutes. "Thanks," he said sincerely to the waitress. "Let's just hope she hasn't left yet. Maybe you could keep an eye out for a love-lorn guy who looks a little bit like me but older and not as handsome." She smiled, nodded and left him to take up watch outside. _

_Drumm quickly dialled the agency and told Sid what had happened. "So, coincidence or what?"_

_"Shit. I don't believe in coincidences. Hang on." Sid was a minute before returning to the phone. "Drumm, I can't send Mitch to relieve you. He's out on a rent-paying job. I can't send Alyssa in until at least seven when the club opens. We got two choices, kid. Either we try and pick up Montana tomorrow morning and you get the hell out of there now or…." Sid tailed off._

_"Or, I stay where I am."_

_"Or you stay where you are. But remember, these guys know you, Drumm. If they spot you, they could make your last trip to the hospital seem like a vacation."_

_"Yeah, I know. I'll be careful."_

_"Do that. And once Alyssa gets there, leave and come back here, whether Montana shows up again or not. Got it?"_

_"Got it." Drumm put the phone down and hurried back outside. He scanned the street in case Montana had slipped out. He didn't see him._

_"Okay?" The waitress had found some fresh lipstick while he'd been on the phone._

_"You won't believe it," Drumm said. "He's already there. She changed her mind and called him direct. I think I interrupted, well, you know, them making up. They want me to come over but later, much later. At least that best man's suit won't go to waste." He grinned. "I'm just going to relax with this fine coffee and contemplate the joys of being single." She beamed at him and he made his way back to his table. He was pleased with himself for covering his lingering as well as the call. The only thing he had to watch now was that he didn't overdo the coffee. He was strong but his bladder wasn't that big. It helped that the coffee was awful._

_He was on his second coffee and the third reading of an article on a riot at a Joy Division concert in England. Drumm recognised the signs of trouble in a band and hoped they'd sort it out. He liked their stuff. Drumm got so used to the constant read, glance, read, glance routine every few seconds that it took him a moment to recognise activity across the street. A large black limo turned into the alley. Raising the paper to obscure more of his face, Drumm watched as Wilson Sallis and a couple of tough guys came out of a door in the alley. One of the goons opened the trunk and Drumm saw the other return inside before emerging with something big. He couldn't see what it was. The other goon closed the trunk and opened the back door while Sallis looked around. Sallis paused and spoke into the ear of the guy at the car door who shut the door before going round and entering the club by the front door. Sallis spoke to the other thug who nodded, got into the car and drove away. After checking his pockets, Sallis headed straight for the café._

Oh, fuck.

+...+

_Once a week, Elsa spent all day at the club, rehearsing with the band. They'd decide the set list for the week, three songs a set, two sets a night, six nights a week. Most songs needed little to no rehearsal. They were in the rotation and it was just a case of selecting them to know what they were doing and picking up on any changes anyone wanted to try. Both Elsa and the band however wanted to introduce a few new songs each week and they'd hit upon the process of Elsa bringing two and the band bringing three new songs to try, out of which two or three may be added._

_"What about 'Breakfast in Bed'?" Howie, the pianist, was the Dusty fan. Elsa liked singing Dusty and she liked the song but she didn't particularly want to be reminded of her most recent breakfast in bed._

_"Next week, maybe," she said, perusing the sheet music they'd piled together. "How about this one?" She handed Howie the music._

_"Ah, Barbra. Always reliable."_

_They polished up 'The Way We Were' quickly, followed by 'Cry Me a River.'_

_"Elsa, you're going to have everybody crying into their champagne. How about something a little brighter?" He jigged on his stool._

_"For the twelfth time, I'm not doing 'Copacabana.' Besides, I'm in the mood for melancholy." She handed Howie some more sheets. He looked down and sighed._

_They were halfway through 'Solitaire,' when Elsa saw Tony with one of the goon squad who'd gone with Wilson. There was no sign of his boss. She wondered how long he had been back. She couldn't see the entrance from the stage and he could have slipped in and gone straight to his office but she'd have expected him to come to her, especially after such a long absence. Elsa frowned. "Let's take a break, guys."_

_Elsa approached the goon. "Where's Wilson?" The guy didn't answer, just smirked and gestured "outside" with his head. Elsa went to the door and opened it, peering out. She saw Drumm immediately. There was no hiding that physique. Walking directly towards him was Wilson Sallis._

Oh, fuck!

+...+

_Sallis settled himself on the empty chair at Drumm's table, pausing to survey Drumm's view. Drumm, his heart and mind racing, took quiet deep breaths to manage the adrenaline coursing though his veins. He stared straight ahead._

_"So, Mr. Drummond. Not a quick learner, I see."_

_Before Drumm could respond, the waitress approached them. She was curious but smiled at Sallis. "Can I get you something?"_

_"Yes, my dear," Sallis said easily. "I'll have a Coke and my friend here will have another of those." He pointed at Drumm's cup. The waitress waited a second, perhaps for Drumm to introduce the guy and her smile dropped a little when Drumm didn't respond. She left them to get the order._

_"Should I be flattered that you know my name? Was it before or after your employees used me as a punching bag?"_

_"Boys will be boys and it's not flattery. I always take an interest in anyone who takes an interest in me and mine. I was fascinated to read about your brother. Tragic loss."_

_Every word out of his mouth was like a piece of silk wrapped around a razor blade. Drumm's fist under the table was clenching and unclenching. He had to keep his cool. Although he doubted that Sallis or his goons could do too much in such a public place, he couldn't count on it._

_"Yeah, it was. Funny thing. This is the last place he was seen alive. Know anything about that, Mr. Sallis?" Drumm turned his head to stare at him for the first time since Sallis sat down._

_"I'm sorry, I can't help you. A lot of people come in and out of the club. I never had the fortune of meeting your brother."_

_"You never had the misfortune of meeting me. That didn't stop you trying to teach me something."_

_"I'm a generous man, Mr. Drummond; a patron, if you will. I believe in the power of education, and those who stick their noses in other people's affairs need to be educated. I think I saw your brother, though. As I recall, he upset my lady."_

_"Lady!" Drumm couldn't help himself. It just came out as a snort._

_"Yes," Sallis said softly, dangerously. "She's in there now, rehearsing. Why don't you come on in and have a listen, maybe apologize on your brother's behalf."_

_Drumm saw Sallis' hand disappear into his pocket. His heart stopped. He was contemplating the strengths and weaknesses of running versus playing along versus screaming for help when he heard a shout from across the street._

_"Wilson! Darling!"_

_Drumm wasn't too sure which of them was more shocked as Elsa raced across the road from the club, narrowly missing being hit by a honking cab. She dodged it and jumped into Sallis' lap. Her arms were around his neck and she was kissing his face._

_"I've missed you so much, my darling."_

_Drumm watched as Sallis recovered himself and saw him grab the tops of Elsa's arms tightly and push her away a little._

_"Hello, princess." The tone was still silky. "What an unexpected surprise. You could have waited for me inside." It was a rebuke. Sallis squeezed Elsa's arms even harder and Drumm detected a stab of pain across her face. He told himself he didn't care – she chose this – but it took every ounce of his self-control to hold himself back from doing something to stop it. "I was just having a friendly chat with Mr. Drummond here. You remember Mr. Drummond, don't you? He enjoyed your singing so much a couple of weeks ago that he forgot his manners."_

_Elsa glanced over at Drumm before returning to stare into Sallis' eyes. "Oh, yeah. I remember him. My latest fan." She laughed and turned back to Drumm. "Nice to see you again."_

_"See, Mr. Drummond. My little songbird is indeed a polite lady. I invited Mr. Drummond in to watch you rehearse, princess. I thought he'd be eager." Sallis hadn't loosened his grip on Elsa at all. Drumm could see her starting to lose colour in her face. He needed to end this even if he wanted to not care. He stood up._

_"As captivating as that would be, I'm afraid I have to take a rain check." Drumm caught the eye of the waitress and beckoned her over. "How much for everything?" She handed him a bill and Drumm pulled out some cash, giving her a large tip. She grinned and nodded before taking a few paces back. _

_Sallis rose, switching his firm grip of Elsa to one wrist. "Are you sure? Princess, can't you persuade him?"_

_"I don't think so, honey. Besides, we've pretty much wrapped up and I want to go home. You've been away so, so long." She was simpering. _

_Sallis laughed. "Well, Mr. Drummond, it seems like my lady has other things on her mind." Drumm was ready to vomit. "So, I'll say farewell. An interesting chat. I'm sure we'll be able to continue it if I see you again, one way or another."_

_Drumm acknowledged the threat with a nod and risked a glance at Elsa. She ignored him and continued to gaze up at her lover. Drumm turned on his heel and walked away, willing himself not to run. _

_It was a long and nerve-wracking walk back to the car. Drumm expected to be jumped every step of the way. He wasn't a coward but nor was he a fool. He flexed his fingers in memory of the last time he'd upset Wilson Sallis. When he got to the car, he grabbed the tire iron from the trunk before he got in. Resting his forehead on the steering wheel, he took deep breaths until his pulse slowed and his nausea passed. He stayed for a while, watching Gus's newsstand to see if Montana might turn up again but after an hour, he decided he'd better report back._

+...+

_"The guy's a drunk. No way he's a reliable witness. The license plate number he reported doesn't exist."_

_Elizabeth Mortimer sighed and looked down at her latest case. She was sure she was being punished with unsolvable cases but this one was promising. The dump had been seen and the police were on the scene quickly. At least, it wasn't a bloated floater like others she'd attended._

_"We got an ID." Elizabeth looked down at the officer checking the pockets. "One Jason Montana." _

* * *

__**It's jolly nice to know what readers think. Just saying. **


	21. Two for the Price of One

**The _Glee_ characters belong to _Glee_, the rest of the characters belong to me. This story is improved no end by wood-u-like-2-no's contribution as beta and soundboard. **

**Conceit: Chapter titles are song titles. Abba, makers of the finest pop song of all time. Not this song, which is a track off _The Visitors_.**

**+...+**

**Chapter Twenty-One: Two for the Price of One**

"I was surprised you called me. I thought you and Rachel were…"

"Me and Rachel are old friends, that's all."

They were having dinner at Finn's favourite restaurant. The staff had proven to be discreet and always gave him the table in the back, as far away from curious eyes as was possible in a small restaurant seating only thirty. Part of it was tucked behind a pillar, wholly obscuring the diner on one side of the table from the rest of the customers. Only Katie could see out across the rest of the premises. Finn's view was restricted to his guest. He looked up from his sublime Dover sole to see her watching him sceptically. He felt himself get defensive. "It's the truth! Anything we had was over a long time ago. It just been a bit awkward, that's all. We had a talk last night, to clear the air." Katie was still staring at him dubiously but Finn was grateful that she dropped it. He didn't want to spend the night thinking about Rachel.

Katie returned her attention to digging into a large steak. She'd told Finn when she ordered that she wasn't a big red meat eater but the steaks in America were just too good. "So, why me?" Katie was dressed in a short blue off the shoulder cocktail dress that sparkled, emphasizing the blueness in her eyes and setting off the auburn hair, pinned up to gush in curls from the top like lava on a volcano.

"Are you kidding?"

Katie laughed. "I suppose I should take that as a compliment even if a girl could use at least a nod to personality and wit."

Finn smiled. "Oh, you had me on those when you asked me to be mother. Where does that come from?"

Katie shook her head. "I assume it's from the tradition that mums were in charge of preparing and distributing family meals from the days when a woman's greatest kitchen aid was her teapot. Attitudes move on faster, thank God, than adages."

"Not fast enough," Finn said, suddenly serious. "My brother still gets crap sometimes for being gay. You'd think people would have got it in this day and age."

"At least your brother is in an industry that embraced homosexuality years ago. It's tougher for actors. It can still wreck careers even if less and less. But God forgive you if you're suited to being a romantic interest. I was working with Rupert Everett on stage in London last year. He has some stories about what coming out did to him you wouldn't believe."

Finn nodded. "It sucks. It's called acting for a reason." Finn took another bite of his fish. "I don't know what it is with some people although…." He paused, remembering. "I used to be a jerk. I remember my dad, before he was my dad, piling into me about it. I'd yelled at Kurt but at least I had the excuse of sixteen and stupid. The people who still campaign now, they're adults. They have no excuse."

Katie nodded and they finished their food. She pushed the plate away with a satisfied sigh. "That was lovely. Thank you."

"No problem. I'm grateful for the company."

Katie's face turned serious again. "Finn, I like you and I've enjoyed this dinner but there's something you need to know. You're not really my type."

"Really? My ego is crushed." He smiled as he said it. He felt the same way. He liked Katie, a lot, and she was devastatingly beautiful, but the spark wasn't sexual. It was intellectual or something. He liked her company but the longer he spent in it, the less he could imagine being in bed with her. Not like Rachel. _Shit!_ To avoid thinking about all that again, Finn pressed Katie. "So, what's your type?"

"Shorter."

Finn laughed. "That's the first time I've been blown off for my height! What else?" Finn watched as Katie searched for the words. She was casting her eyes around the restaurant and he saw them widen.

"Santana?"

"What?"

"Isn't that Santana?"

Finn couldn't see so he stood and peered around the pillar. Katie was right. He could only see the back of her but Finn would have recognised the hair and the way that arrogant head set on those shoulders anywhere. Santana was at a table in the middle of the restaurant. She was alone and from the stiffness of her back, she seemed pretty fed up. "You're right. Excuse me a minute, will you?"

Katie nodded and Finn made his way over to the middle table, ignoring the stares from the diners who hadn't realised he was there. He came up behind her, bent down, kissed her on the cheek and backed away quickly to avoid the punch he suspected would follow.

"What the-. Oh, it's you. You're lucky you still have your head."

Finn took the seat opposite at her table. "Here alone?"

"Not that I particularly want to share," she said, pouting, "but truth is, I've been stood up. She's still nervous about being seen in public with a lesbian." Santana snorted. "Well, at least I'm sure it's going nowhere now."

"Come join us. We're about to have dessert."

"No way. I don't play third wheel for anyone."

"You're not. Trust me. I'm with Katie Cleaver. We're just having dinner."

Santana peered at him. "What's the matter, superstar? Your questionable charms not working or does she just have taste?"

"Both, I suspect. Anyway, come on." One of the waiters was hovering and Finn whispered in his ear. He nodded and Finn watched as he directed another chair and place to be laid at the table next to Katie.

"You buying?"

Fin laughed. It was just like Santana to turn lemons into lemonade for herself. Having him pick up the tab would make the dinner worthwhile despite the humiliation of being stood up. "I'm buying."

"Good," Santana said, standing. "I had the lobster with caviar."

Finn escorted Santana back to his table. "You remember Katie, right?"

"Of course I do. I know it's a novel concept for you but I have a brain." Santana held out her hand. "Nice to see you again, Katie."

Katie stood. "Pleasure's all mine. Please, sit down."

Santana took the new seat and stared as the other two did likewise. "So," she said slowly, "you having a business meeting?"

Katie laughed. "No. Finn was hoping to seduce me."

"Hey, that's not fair!" Finn was bristling a little. It was turning into a dinner scarily reminiscent of one he'd shared with Santana and Brittany years ago. "I just wanted to take a smart, beautiful woman out to dinner." He smirked. "I've ended up with two. What man wouldn't call the evening a triumph?"

Santana ignored him and turned to Katie. "Did he do that puppy-dog thing with the eyes or the gaseous baby one with the lop-sided smirk?" Katie laughed. Finn, resigned to being the butt of all jokes for the rest of the night, sighed. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and pulled it out. He might as well pick up his messages while the two of them mocked him mercilessly.

+...+

It was two in the morning. Rachel had gone to bed four hours earlier but after tossing, turning and trying to count sheep for hours, she'd finally given up. She wasn't due in tomorrow so at least she didn't have to worry about challenging the make-up team to hide bags under her eyes. Wrapped in a blanket to cover her nightie, she sat in on the patio, listening to the sound of the ocean surf.

It had been a strange evening. After commiserating with Alex, he'd asked her if she wanted to join him for a drink and after a moment's hesitation, she'd agreed. They'd gone to a nearby bar, one that actors and crew often frequented after shooting. A few of the crew were there which made Rachel more comfortable. She wasn't looking for a date. They'd joined them and Rachel sat back as they chatted about the day's events. She supposed she should have felt embarrassed given that all of them except Alex had been on the closed set and seen her in the flesh but she didn't. As far as she was concerned, they'd seen Elsa's body, not hers. She was grateful though that instead of talking about the actors, they stuck to complaining about what a demanding bitch Mary was during all the set ups.

After two diet soft drinks and agreeing to attend a fund-raiser for his charity, Rachel made her excuses, left Alex with the crew and headed for home. Quinn was out. She'd arranged to meet a couple of friends who were in from New York for a couple of days. Quinn had invited Rachel but knowing what she was facing that day, she'd passed. The thing about exposing yourself so publically was that nothing was sweeter than private time. It was a chance to claim yourself back. It was time that could have been spent with a close friend, but not with strangers.

At home, she'd prepared herself a light dinner and picked at it in front of the television. She'd avoided drama. She'd needed comedy or mindless reality, anything to stop her thinking too much. She didn't want to think. The problem was, without food or the noise of the television, as she lay in her bed willing herself to sleep, she couldn't help it.

As the surf beat against the beach, Rachel tried to convince herself that she was happy for him. They would make a handsome couple. At least she wouldn't have to spend her life in high heels or on tip-toes. A sound burst from Rachel, something between a sob and a chuckle. The truth was she wasn't happy, she wasn't happy at all. She was miserable.

When Finn told her he had a date, she thought the open door she'd glimpsed had slammed shut. But then he told her that he still loved her, at least part of him did, and the door to them maybe reconciling opened again. He had to have heard how sorry she was that she hadn't told him about the abortion beforehand. He said he didn't hate her for it and if he didn't hate her, he could forgive her. It had given her the strength to play it cool after his revelation, to laugh at his line about their experience with sex.

For the shoot, she didn't have to struggle to block everything out. The minute she lay in his arms, it was all forgotten. She was home. Rachel knew that it wasn't Elsa in that bed. It was all her and, she had thought, all Finn. It could have screwed up the shoot but Mary seemed satisfied. For Rachel, it was exquisite. She believed even more that Finn was ready to give them a chance. Maybe he still was but she wished it wasn't Katie. She liked her and didn't want to interfere.

_You liked Quinn too, despite her being a bitch to you. You didn't let her get in your way._

Rachel shook her head angrily. She was an adult now. She had learned to respect boundaries and for now, Finn was off-limits. She had to face it.

Thinking about Quinn, Rachel wondered if she was back. She hadn't heard her come in. Rachel rose from the deckchair and crept softly to the door of Quinn's room. After a moment with her ear to the door and cursing that of course perfect Quinn wouldn't snore, she opened if carefully. She could see a shape under the covers. As she was closing the door, her phone rang. Desperately so as not to wake Quinn, she pulled the door to and raced to find it, to stop it ringing.

"Hello," she said breathlessly. It only then occurred to her to start to panic about what a call in the middle of the night might mean.

"Rachel? It's Mary McCormick."

"Mary? Do you know what time it is?"

"I do and I'm sorry to call so late but I need you in first thing ready to shoot your scene with the band and the other one."

Rachel cursed. She was going to have to work on three hours sleep. "What's going on? I'm not due in until Thursday."

"We've had to re-jig the schedule. Finn's not available tomorrow and we're trying to avoid shutting down production. We may still have to, but we're going to try and get all the remaining scenes that don't involve him in the can."

Rachel felt like she'd been punched. "What's happened to Finn?"

"It's not Finn. It's his mother. Car accident. He's on his way back to Ohio now. It doesn't sound good."

**Drumm: Chapter Twenty-One **

_"It doesn't make sense."_

_Drumm had already been chewed out for being seen, leading to his dangerous encounter with Sallis. Finally, they were getting around to what it meant that Jason Montana had a connection to the club, both for the Cantor case and for finding out who killed Theo._

_"The Pink Leopard doesn't open until 8pm. He's never been there when I've been there, I'd swear to it. He wasn't there the night Theo died, I know. I've got every face memorised." Alyssa was staring at the picture Theo took of Montana. "Not at least in the public areas or behind the stage. The rooms upstairs are just empty bedrooms until used by the girls. Unless there's a basement or some secret door, and I've seen nothing to suggest there is, he's out before the club opens. The only place I can't get into is Sallis' office. Maybe he's in there doing… something."_

_It was 7:15. Alyssa was dressed for the club. Sid had told her to pull out of the surveillance without burning bridges and she was due to set up her exit that night, but now they were re-assessing. She'd have to go soon. _

_"I know it's crazy 'cause he's a fucking scientist but could he be a cleaner?"_

_Sid and Alyssa shook their heads. "You're right, Drumm," Sid said. "It sounds crazy and it doesn't make sense. Do we have any knowledge of who's in the club at this time of day?"_

_Alyssa shook her head. "Cleaners, I suppose, they have to be there sometime in the day and one of them could have let him in. Sallis and his crew probably go in and out so it could be any of them too."_

_"Plus rehearsals." The other two looked over at Drumm. "Elsa and the band. They were there today. They'd need to rehearse pretty regularly unless she does the same sets every night. Does she?" Alyssa shook her head. Sid chewed his lip._

_"Okay. Alyssa, you're gonna have to stay in place. Are you okay for that?"_

_Drumm shifted uncomfortably at Sid's question. He knew the only reason that Alyssa might not be okay was because of him. He kept his head down._

_"Yeah, I think so," Alyssa said. "Tony is expecting more now than he's gonna get but I can handle him." Drumm could feel the glare she cast in his direction. "The only question is whether or not Sallis or, more likely, Elsa is suspicious about me luring Tony away for a few hours and I'll know better after tonight." _

_"If you're good, find out what you can about who's in the club in the daytime. Unless Montana is doing something with Sallis, they seem to be the most likely ones to be around. If we can work out who's letting him in, we might be able to work out what he's doing there."_

_"What about Sophie Cantor? I told her I'd find Montana for her. What do I tell her?"_

_"Nothing," Sid said firmly. "Not yet. There's a connection between Cantor Corp and the Pink Leopard and I don't believe in coincidences. If Theo found the same connection, well, let's just say that we need to know a lot more than we do now before we tell anybody anything."_

_"There's the obvious connection, of course."_

_The men glanced at Alyssa and nodded. Drugs were the connection. Sallis was making his mark as a dealer in customized drugs and to do it, he needed resources, both in materials and in skills. Montana had the knowledge and, at least until he left Cantor Corp, access to the materials in plenty. The simplest explanation was that Montana was working for Sallis. Occam's Razor hadn't helped much with Elsa though, Drumm thought wryly. _

_"Okay," Sid said, "we can't really make any decisions on Montana until we pick him up again. Alyssa, stay but be careful tonight and confirm you're in the clear, right? Be ready. If there's any doubt, you're out."_

_"Old man, you remember who you're talking to?" Alyssa's brows were raised in indignation._

_"Yeah, yeah, you can take on the world single-handed," Sid responded. "But I mean it. Be careful out there." Alyssa nodded and took off for the club._

_"What can I do?"_

_Sid turned his attention to Drumm and appraised him critically. "You really want an answer to that?" _

_"Come on, Sid. That's enough punishment. I want to help."_

_Sid sighed. "I know but right now, it's wait and see. There's something you can help me with but it's brain work. I'm not sure you can handle it."_

_Drumm groaned. "I'm sorry! How many times-"_

_"I wasn't joking."_

_That stung. "Whatever it is, I can try."_

_Sid nodded. "Okay. I want to set up a board." Off Drumm's confused look, Sid explained. "An incident board for Theo. We put down the connections, incidents, suspects, everything in a way that seeks to uncover things we're not seeing. I said I wasn't joking because it takes experience not to turn it into meaningless clutter that's less helpful than a case of the clap. Theo never saw the need for one – he'd do it in his head – but I think it would help now we've got a definite link." _

_"So, do we have a board?"_

_"No, and that's something you can do. That place on 14th is open until ten. Get a whiteboard. They're expensive so I'll cover it but they're a lot better than chalkboards. Pick up some magnets to attach stuff and some pens. Bring them back here and I'll make a start." Sid hobbled to Theo's office and grabbed some money from the petty cash box. Handing it to Drumm, he added, "Don't go psychedelic, Drumm. We just need black, blue, maybe a red and a green. See if they have any of that tape you can use on them. Oh, and get a cover. We don't want the clients reading it."_

_After an hour or so and with a few bumps and scrapes, Drumm manoeuvred the whiteboard into the main office and set it up against one wall. Sid was in Theo's office fast asleep in his chair. They all called him old man but Drumm still forgot sometimes how true it was. It wasn't so much the years but Sid's arthritis was taking its toll. He had to be in pain most of the time and it was robbing him of what was left of his vitality. As Drumm examined the relaxed face, pain-free only in sleep, he saw how different it was to Sid's waking visage and his heart ached a little. He certainly wasn't going to wake him up._

_Drumm went back to the main office and stared at the blank whiteboard. Sid had said it takes experience to do one and anything he did would probably be wiped away tomorrow but he had nothing to lose but a night's sleep. Drumm set to work._

+...+

_"Wake up, sleepy head."_

_Drumm's head jerked up off the desk. It took a moment for him to focus on the figure standing in front of him. She was holding a bunch of flowers._

_"Lise-Marie!" It took him another moment to remember the whiteboard. He glanced over and was relieved to see he'd covered it before he fell asleep. He'd couldn't believe he'd left the front door open either. Who needed burglars when Drumm was doing his best to let them just walk in? He looked back at Lise-Marie. "Those for me?" he asked as he stood, walked around the desk and pulled her into a partial hug to avoid crushing the stems._

_"Of course not," she said shortly. "I'm going to the hospital to see Jack and his sister."_

_"You mad at me?"_

_"What? No! Yes! I don't know." She glared at him and then sighed. "Do I mean anything to you, Drumm?"_

_Drumm knew he needed to tread carefully but he wasn't going to lie. "Yes. You're a very good friend."_

_"That's it?"_

_Drumm nodded before hurrying onto an explanation. "Cherie, we had some good times but we both know it was just that, don't we?"_

_"Yeah, I suppose so." Whatever they'd had, they'd never been exclusive and they'd never taken it seriously. "Is there somebody else?"_

_Drumm hesitated. Was there? "Yes. No. Not really, but maybe one day, if she ever trusts me and vice versa."_

_Lise-Marie was staring at him quizzically but he wasn't going to share his twisted feelings for Elsa Canotti. She nodded and took a breath. "Right, okay. Anyway, you wanted to talk to me about something?" Drumm found it hard to believe that it was only a couple of days since he'd gone to the squat to see her. So much had happened._

_"I did. I need your help." He refused to let the arched eyebrow in response worry him. He remembered what Jack said and knew Jack was right. "Remember the night before Theo's funeral?" She nodded slowly. It figured that it was also the last time they'd had sex. "Well, Theo's ex-wife is suing for the agency. There was a condition in Theo's will that if I took drugs in the year following his death, it would revert to Lisa. I need you to-" He stopped. He was asking a favour. "Would you be willing to testify that you saw the heroin and that, at least until you left, I didn't take it? And also that I was fine at the funeral?"_

_"Fine?"_

_"Drug-free to all appearances anyway."_

_She stared up at him and smiled. "Of course. Did you take it?"_

_"No. I flushed it down the john."_

_"Do you want me to say that I saw you flush it down the toilet?"_

_"What?" Drumm hesitated. It would solve a lot of problems if she did. He looked around the agency and sighed. "No, I don't want you to lie, just tell the truth." _

_"Okay. You'll have to tell me when."_

_"You have some place to be?"_

_Lise-Marie held her breath and then let it out slowly. "I'm leaving the band, Drumm. I'm going back home. My step-father's dead now and my mom wants to try and reconnect and, I don't know why, but I think I do too. I'm spending more and more of each day wanting to strangle Johnny and Mags and I don't like it. That's not who I am. I'm fed up of living in a squat and I think it's time to grow up. You know what that feels like."_

_Drumm took the flowers, put them on the desk and pulled Lise-Marie into a full hug. He kissed the top of her head. "I do," he said sadly. "But are you sure?"_

_"Yeah, I think so. There are bands in Montreal and I'm looking forward to singing in French again."_

_"I'll miss you."_

_"Me too," she said, pulling out of his arms and grabbing the flowers, "but I think it's for the best, for **my** best, you know?"_

_"Have you told Jack?"_

_"That's what the flowers are for," she said, grinning impishly. "I reckon that if I present them first, he won't get too mad at me."_

_Drumm laughed. "You're probably right. Look, let me know when you're going. If you need any help, just let me know."_

_"I'll be fine, cherie." She kissed his cheek. "Good luck with your yes/no girl. I mean it." She walked away with a wave and a smile._

_Drumm watched her go. He really was going to miss her. She'd always been there for him and it was no different now. He wished he had been so reliable for her. He sighed. _

_Drumm heard the phone ring but it stopped before he reached it. Was Sid still here? Drumm walked down the hall and opened the inner office door. Sid was talking quietly and Drumm heard him say, "Thanks, Elizabeth. Can you keep us informed?" After a moment, he put down the phone. He looked up at Drumm._

_"That was Elizabeth Mortimer. She picked up a body from the river last night. It's been positively identified as Jason Montana. He was shot first, then dumped."_

_"What? He's dead." Drumm couldn't believe it. "Fuck!"_

_"She wants to come in and talk to us about what we know. She'll be here in a couple of hours. Drumm, I don't need to tell you that we're not going to be able to protect our client or that girlfriend of yours."_

_"Girlfriend? You mean Elsa? What's she got to do with it?"_

_"Besides being in the club yesterday afternoon when he was last seen alive, you mean?"_

_Crap, Drumm thought. That was true enough. He had to remind himself that he didn't trust her anymore than Sid did. Yet, whatever she was, whatever she was playing at, he still couldn't see her as a murderer despite what he'd said to her yesterday. _

_"Don't just stand there with your mouth open. Help me out of this chair. My body's not built for sleeping at my desk._

_Drumm raced forward and took Sid's arm, trying to pull him up gently. He could see the strain on Sid's face and he couldn't stand properly, even for him. "Sid, you need to go home, get some proper sleep."_

_"I'm fine, kid," Sid lied. "You want to know the rest?"_

_"Yeah, besides Elsa being at the club. Why are the cops interested in her?"_

_"They've got a witness. Claims to have seen her arguing with Montana in the Pink Leopard shortly before he died." _

* * *

**To those taking the time to review, thank you.**


	22. Mama

**The _Glee_ characters belong to _Glee_, the rest of the characters belong to me. My poor beta is snowed under with work and family so this chapter is unedited by anyone other than me and I'm a lousy editor. Feel free to let me know where I've effed up. **

**Conceit: Chapter titles are song titles. This one kind of named itself. Thanks Genesis. **

**+...+**

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Mama**

Finn's dull eyes stared out the small, round window into a blackness rarely alleviated by lights on the ground. His brain had stalled since the restaurant. It wouldn't work properly. All it would do was repeat a single word.

_Please._

He checked his watch for the hundredth time. Four hours. Three hours, forty-five minutes. Three hours, thirty-six minutes. Three hours, seventeen minutes. They weren't going fast enough. He glanced at the door to the cockpit. The chartered private jet had scrambled so quickly, there was no flight attendant to stop him bursting in and telling the pilots to hurry. Somewhere within, he knew he was being irrational and the door was probably locked to prevent hi-jacking or something, but it didn't weaken the urge. They had to get there in time. He had never felt as useless in his life as in this moment.

_Please._

Three hours, four minutes. Two hours, fifty-six minutes. Two hours, thirty-nine minutes. Two hours, twelve minutes. His phone beeped. Since boarding, he'd been trying to get hold of his brother. Kurt hadn't responded and the phone at the Paris apartment had shrilled unstopping in his ear. Finn wasn't capable of speech the first four times the answer machine kicked in. The fifth time, he left a message, telling Kurt to contact him. He wasn't sure why. Burt would have called him. Maybe he and Blaine were on their way back across the Atlantic already and Kurt hadn't had a chance to re-charge his phone. He pulled the phone out of the breast pocket of his Armani suit. It was another message from Puck. He didn't want to read it yet. Whatever it was, he couldn't do anything about it now. He couldn't do anything about anything trapped in this metal tube travelling east, thousands of feet above the earth.

_Please._

Two hours, one minute. One hour, fifty-three minutes. One hour, forty-eight minutes. One hour, twenty-nine minutes. He couldn't do anything in the restaurant either. After hearing Burt's broken voice on the phone, he'd let it slip from his fingers. It had landed on the table. One of the girls had picked it up, he didn't know which. He'd gone blind. Shaking his head to clear his vision, he stood up so abruptly that the chair clattered loudly against the wall behind him. He felt something on his arm and looked down. It was a hand. Some of his senses were missing but he could see the skin with the clarity of looking down a microscope, the tiny hairs of the forearm to which it was attached were standing. The hand moved up his arm to his shoulder and pressed down. He complied because everything had frozen except his joints. His vision clearing to make room for the water that was welling from the bottom of his eyes, he saw Katie standing above him, her other hand on his other shoulder. He could feel she was gently flexing her fingers, massaging the muscles that had turned to knots. Looking ahead, he saw Santana. He could see her mouth moving as she was talking rapidly into his phone. He didn't listen. Nothing would get through the roar beating against his eardrums.

_Please._

One hour, sixteen minutes. One hour, twelve minutes. One hour, seven minutes. One hour, two minutes. He knew she's stopped talking because she put the phone down on the table and beckoned someone over. Katie leant over, picked it up and dropped it into his jacket pocket. She moved both hands down to his arms and made to lift him. He resisted for a few seconds and then stood, confused yet compliant. She led him out of the restaurant and the cool night air hit him like a pyroclastic surge. He staggered and Katie stumbled into him. They almost toppled but Finn's army training was sufficiently ingrained to let his reflexes take over. He choked out an apology. She was talking to him, soothingly, but the words made no sense. Santana had followed them out after a minute and she took his other arm. He was marched between them to her car and Katie joined him in the back seat. Santana was driving and talking at the same time. The gentle rocking of the car's movement shook a little of the shock from him and when she stopped talking, he called out to her.

"I have to go home, to Ohio." He strained to hear the response from the front.

"I know. We're going straight to an airfield now. Puck's chartered a jet. We're working on pulling strings to get clearance so you can go straight to Lima."

_Please._

Fifty-seven minutes. Forty-four minutes. Thirty-nine minutes. Thirty-one minutes. He'd faced fire in the army and had never frozen like this. What was that about? Finn tried to get a grip. He took ten breaths, deep ones that hurt his lungs. He looked again at the phone in his hand. He checked the message from Puck. There would be a car on the tarmac at the airfield. Puck warned him that Santana had insisted there was a driver too. Finn's immediate reaction was anger. More uselessness. He wanted to do something and driving to the hospital was something. He'd dismiss the driver. Ten more deep breaths and he realised that Santana was right. He wasn't in a fit state to drive anywhere. He wasn't fit for anything useful.

_Please._

Twenty-six minutes. Twenty-three minutes. The blackness in the window was growing less dense. Eighteen minutes. Fourteen minutes. Dawn was rushing in and he could register cloud in the sky and land below. The plane was descending. Nine minutes. Five minutes. Touchdown.

_Please. Let her be okay. Please, God. At least until I get there, don't let her die._

+...+

It was a twenty minute drive. Finn's hands were balled into fists and he fought the urge to punch through the glass to make the driver to go faster. He could have done it in ten. When the car pulled up at the hospital, he dashed out, not caring to thank or even pay the driver.

The emergency room was sparsely attended and Finn was able to go straight to the desk. "My mother. Carole Hummel. Where is she? Come on, come on! Where is she?"

It seemed to him that the receptionist took her time before looking up lazily and Finn had never felt closer to wanting to hit a woman. She pointed at the western corridor leading from reception and said, "ICU."

Finn ran down the hall. He passed doors and doors in a seemingly endless line before the journey was blocked by a set of double doors at the end. The right letters were printed large on the glass. For all his anxiety and impatience, Finn paused with his hand out. It was shaking uncontrollably. Suddenly, he was reluctant. Maybe not knowing for sure was better than being told the worst. He backed away from the door and clutched the stomach jumping up and down inside of him. He bent over his arms, trying to regain his courage, his faith and his sanity. After another ten deep breaths, he straightened and checked his hand. Better. He strode through the doors.

It was a smaller reception area attached to a smaller waiting room. Finn was fixed on the empty reception desk but in the corner of his eye, he registered a form. It seemed familiar. He didn't let it divert him and he raced to the desk.

"Finn!"

Finn turned slowly. The man was on his feet, hurrying towards him. Momentarily confused, Finn couldn't speak. The man hugged him hard and Finn let himself be embraced. It was only when the man backed away that Finn's eyes could focus. "Will!"

Will Schuester looked tired and unshaven. It had been a couple of years since they'd seen each other, not since the christening of Will's son Jake. Finn had been an absentee godfather to all three of Will and Emma's children but he tried to make up for it by sending gifts to all of them four or five times a year. Seeing Will just reminded Finn of how long he'd spent away from home and how it was time he'd never get back. Like with his mom.

"My mom."

"I know. Puck called me. Come sit down."

"No, I can't." Finn was getting angry again. Why were people getting in his way? Didn't they understand? "Where is she?"

"Sit down, Finn!" Will's tone had taken on the tone of authority. Something Pavlovian kicked in and Finn did what he was told. He suddenly realised what was happening.

"Oh my God. She's gone, isn't she?"

"No, Finn, no. She's still alive. At least…." Will tailed off and Finn, his frustrations and fears boiling over, grabbed Will's arms and shook him.

"WHERE IS SHE?"

Will let himself be shaken until Finn stopped when a choking sound rose up from his gut and erupted in his throat. He dropped Will's arms and bent his head into his former mentor's chest, sobbing. Will put his arms around Finn and let him cry. When the shuddering eased, Will spoke quietly into his ear.

"She's being prepared for surgery. There's a lot of internal damage and they have to deal with it quickly. I've seen your dad. He's with her. You can go in for a minute but you need to be ready. She has head injuries too and her face is pretty banged up. Your dad, both of them, need you to be strong right now. Can you do that?"

All the fight bled out of him in a gush. Finn stared up at Will and nodded slowly. He twisted out of Will's arms and put his elbows on his knees with his head in his hands. Ten deep breaths. Twenty. He waited to feel his pulse slow and his stomach settle. He's seen terrible injuries before. He could do this. He rose slowly.

"I'm ready."

+...+

He saw nothing when he first went in. There were so many machines and tubes surrounding her than it took him a moment to spot a shape in the midst of them. He stepped forward, willing it to turn into his mother before he screamed. The first thing he saw clearly was her leg or at least part of it. The rest of it wasn't there. He thought he was hallucinating and reached out to touch the space.

"Finn." The voice was quiet and insistent. He looked up. Out from between the machines emerged his step-father. He'd aged twenty years since their last visit to California four months before.

"Where's her leg?" Finn asked stupidly. He couldn't wrap his head around the space where a calf and foot should be. He'd seen it before but this was his mother. There weren't supposed to be landmines in Lima.

Burt reached Finn and they clung to each other. Finn made a huge effort to blink the tears away. Will was right. Somebody had to be strong and Burt felt fragile, like a paper doll. Burt finally pulled back and stretched out his hand. He drew his son to the gap between the machines, to the place at his wife's side that he had only vacated when forced to by the hospital staff. And now.

In his senior year at high school, Rachel had fallen in love with _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and made Finn watch all seven seasons, twice. The musical episode he sat through more times than he could count. He was lukewarm at first but came to enjoy the show, although not with her passion. In one of the episodes, a girl was forced into a contraption that would eventually eviscerate her with numerous tubes drawing her blood for the vampires to have a living fresh juice bar. At the time, he thought it was cool. It wasn't cool at all seeing something similar for real.

Carole was unrecognisable. There was a bandage on her skull and she had already had her hair shaved around it. Her face was so swollen, bruised and lacerated that he couldn't reconcile his beautiful mother with this lump of flesh. Forcing himself to look down to where her legs emerged from the hospital gown, he could see bone through the gash on the left. The right leg ended just below the knee in a bandaged stump. Finn caught his breath and closed his eyes. He opened them slowly, bent down and lightly kissed a small spot on her cheek where her skin still covered what lie beneath.

Finn glanced back. Burt was standing just behind him, his head drooped low. "Is she going to make it?"

"I don't know, son."

+...+

Finn was leaning on the hand that was resting on the drinks machine. His mom was in surgery and they'd been warned it would be hours. Will and his dad were back in the waiting room. With Will, Finn had tried to talk his dad into going home and grabbing some sleep. Burt had all but laughed in their faces, saying that there was no way he was going to be able to sleep and he wasn't going anywhere. It was all they could do to get him to agree to have a cup of coffee.

Kurt was on his way back to the States. He'd been in France less than twenty-four hours and this time Blaine was with him. It seemed kind of unimportant now, but Finn hoped they had sorted themselves out. His mom would throw out comments to both her sons on a regular basis how much she wanted to be a grandmother. Finn smiled and then frowned. If things had gone differently, she'd have been one by now. In that moment, he deeply regretted never telling her. If she came round- when she came round, he would.

"Sucks, huh?"

Finn looked over and saw a girl. She was maybe twenty, twenty-one. Her eyes were red. She had her phone in one hand and a few coins in the other. She was pale and from her appearance it looked like she was dressed in clothes from the night before too. Finn nodded. "Yeah, it really does."

"It's my dad. He had a heart attack." Finn saw the tears well up in her eyes.

"I'm sorry. Is he going to be okay?"

"They're not sure yet. They say his surviving the heart attack is a good thing but doctors never tell you the truth, you know?" Finn nodded. The surgeon had introduced himself to them when they were ushered out of the room so his mom could be wheeled to the operating table. He'd been reassuring but warned them that once they got inside and saw the extent of the damage, there may be little he could do. Will was the one who let a tear fall at that. Burt and Finn were too empty.

"You're Finn Hudson, aren't you? Why are you here?"

Finn knew that people would recognise him but this was the first person since he'd been in Lima who acknowledged it. She was young, too young to know how unimportant it was. He nodded and added, "It's my mom. She was in a bad car accident. She's in surgery now."

"That's good, isn't it? I mean, they can help her."

"I hope so but she's already lost part of her leg and…." He trailed off. He was trying to be strong but he just wasn't ready to face his mother not making it. He needed to get ready, in case. "They say it's touch and go."

"Oh," she said, walking towards him. She put her hand on his arm. "I'm so sorry. At least you're here. I would have thought you'd be somewhere far away, somewhere glamorous, like Hollywood or New York or somewhere."

"I flew from California over night."

"I didn't realise there were flights at night."

"There aren't. A plane was chartered for me and I flew straight here."

"I was at a party. I got a text. I feel weird here, in this. It's too fancy, like it's disrespectful or something."

Finn gave a grimace. "I know what you mean," he said pulling at the suit. "I was on a date."

"With Rachel or Quinn?"

"Neither." It suddenly occurred to Finn that the girl was asking a lot of questions. His eyes narrowed. He was too experienced with journalists not to be suspicious. That he hadn't sniffed her out already was a sign of just how shattered he was. He rapidly inserted the money into the machine and waited for the three coffees to pour. How had they got a journalist – one who could act – here so fast? The only thing he could figure was the driver or the receptionist. He'd been rude to both of them. Karma. He encompassed the three cups gently together between his hands and stepped away from the machine. There was no point exposing her now. "All yours. Hope your dad's okay."

"You too," she said. As Finn walked away, he wasn't sure if he imagined the click of the phone's camera.

**Drumm: Chapter Twenty-Two **

_Sid was staring at the whiteboard. Drumm had covered it with names and dates and places, drawing links where there were links and question marks where there were none. He'd been thorough. Sid was impressed although there was no way in hell he was going to tell Drumm that. "Huh. Looks like a two-year-old's colouring book. I knew you'd go stupid on the pens. The cost of those can come out of your pocket." Drumm, standing next to him, looked a little crestfallen. "Oh, don't go all cry-baby on me. You haven't left room for new information. Where am I supposed to put what we just learned?"_

_Drumm sighed. "I knew you'd be able to wipe it clean. I just thought I'd try."_

_Sid relented. It was getting to be a disturbing habit. "It wasn't a bad first attempt, Drumm. It just needs tidying up." Sid looked down at his hand. He kept some spare medication in the office but not everything and he wasn't sure he would be able to hold the pens very well. He didn't want Drumm to watch him struggling so he needed to put him to work. "Listen, kid. I think you should go see Sally Strong again. She knows something about Elsa she's not telling you. Push her harder. Then, I suppose, you should go find Sophie Cantor. She may not know yet. She could have some idea what Montana was doing at the Pink Leopard. Stay away from Elsa."_

_"What about Elizabeth? Isn't she on her way over? She'll want to talk to me."_

_"Let me take care of Elizabeth. We could do with a bit of breathing space before we have to give her everything."_

_Drumm nodded and walked out of the agency, running into Mitch coming in. They slapped hands and Mitch, a large box in his hands, entered the office._

_"Hey, Sid. You're here early." He set the box down on the desk. "Whoa! A whiteboard! Cool!"_

_Sid grunted. "Some of us are more dedicated than others. Where were you last night?" He could see Mitch gearing up for a protest. Sid forestalled it. "Oh, never mind. I don't want to know. Now, pick up that pen. I need you to write what and where I tell you. If anyone comes in, pull down the cover. Later, we'll find room for it in my office."_

+...+

_Sally was alone, staring out the window opposite the door. Drumm could see Lise-Marie's flowers in a vase by the bed. There was no sign of Jack. That was probably a good thing; less reason to go easy on her. He stepped into the room and coughed. She jerked her head around, her face panicked. It relaxed when she saw him and she gave a tremulous smile._

_"Hi, Drumm. Jack's not here. He and Lise-Marie have gone out for a coffee and a conversation. Did you know she wants to leave the band?"_

_"I know. Is he trying to talk her out of it?"_

_"I think so. I hope he can. She seemed really nice."_

_"She is. How are you feeling?"_

_"Better. The doctors are going to let me go this afternoon. Jack wants me to go back with him but I think I'll be better at June's."_

_"Actually, you're probably right. You'll be more comfortable. The squat is a little basic."_

_Sally smiled. "My poor parents. Two itinerant kids." Her smile faded._

_"Have you spoken to them?"_

_"My dad anyway, on the phone last night. My mom's in hospital. She-she can't speak too well yet. You were right though. They forgive me. They want me to go home." _

_Drumm nodded. He understood her confliction. He silently wished her luck with it but it was time to dig deeper. He sat down in the chair by the bed and pulled it closer. "Sally, I need you to come clean with me about Elsa and Sallis. It's important. Another man's been murdered."_

_Sally's eyes widened. "Who?"_

_"You wouldn't know him. A guy called Jason Montana. But he's connected somehow-" Drumm realised that he'd lost her and he paused, staring at her. At the mention of Montana, she'd gone white. "You knew him?"_

_Sally's head nodded slowly. Tears were running down her cheeks. "I-I knew him. He was nice to me. He was one of the few who treated me with respect. Wh-what happened?"_

_"I think Sallis shot him. Or Elsa."_

_"Not Elsa. It wouldn't have been Elsa. They were friends, I think. They…." Sally stopped and took a deep breath. She looked up at Drumm, her eyes pleading. "Do you really have to know? Sallis will kill me."_

_"Not if you go home. He won't find you there. Please, Sally. Tell me." Sally looked out the window again and sighed. She started quietly, almost whispering._

_"Jason was-" She stopped and started again. "I was Jason's favourite girl at the Pink Leopard. Not for sex. He never wanted that. He just liked my company, I think. He wasn't comfortable being there but he was with his boss. It was like he didn't have a choice, you know. A horrible old man." Sally shivered. "Canton, was his name, I think, or Cantor, something like that. He'd disappear with Sallis, leaving Jason to sit there on his own so we used to talk. Anyway, the first time Jason saw Elsa on the stage, he was shocked. I thought it was just that he was bewitched by her. A lot of the men were." Drumm knew the feeling but said nothing, letting her continue._

_"But afterwards, he kept asking me about her, her name, how long she'd been there, that kind of stuff. I tried to tell him that Elsa wasn't like the rest of us, she wasn't for h-hire, she belonged to Sallis but he kept on and on. He wanted to know about Sallis, about why she was with him. I told him what I could which wasn't much. Elsa didn't really mix with the rest of us. He never approached her, sticking to the back of the club but eventually, he asked me to help him get a moment alone with her. I told him it was impossible but he kept pushing. He offered to pay me." Sally reddened. "I agreed to do what I could._

_"One night, when Sallis and the old man had disappeared into the office and Elsa was singing, everybody was looking at her. I snuck him backstage and took him to her dressing room. He looked around and he said something really weird. It was under his breath and I barely caught it but it was something like, 'Danny, what are you doing?' He must have realised I'd heard him because he begged me to forget it. I promised." She hesitated, ashamed. "When I asked Elsa for money, I called her Danny. I blackmailed her. I-I shouldn't have done that. It made me realise how low I'd sunk, how-how I couldn't go home."_

_Sally stared out the window and Drumm didn't press her, giving her time to get there on her own. She finally found the strength to go on. "I left Jason there, in Elsa's dressing room and went back out to the club. He was in there a while and Elsa must have sneaked him out somehow. I don't think any of the guys saw him come out._

_"After that, he kept coming but he never asked me to get him backstage again. A couple of weeks later, I saw him come in with the old man and I approached them as I usually do. They were arguing and it was really heated, you know, so I held back. Jason was saying he wouldn't do it, not even for Sophie. I can't tell you who Sophie is. He'd never mentioned her before."_

_"It's okay. What happened then?"_

_"Jason got up and walked right past me, out of the club. I never saw him again." She wiped away a tear. "Is he really dead?"_

_"Yes, I'm sorry. He sounds like he was a kind man."_

_Sally nodded and sniffed. "Sallis gets everyone in the end. If he doesn't hook you with money or drugs, he kills you." She started to fidget in the bed. "I have to go."_

_"Calm down. I really doubt he knows you're here. Besides, nothing you've told me gives him any reason to want you dead." Sally was sceptical and it was a while before she would speak._

_"The next time the old man came in, he was alone. The other girls were all busy so I had to go and entertain him." She paled at the memory. "He drank a lot. He was all hands and it was horrible. It was all I could do not to throw up. Sallis came and the old man told him that everything was okay, that the deal could go ahead without Jason's co-operation. It was the first time they'd said anything like that in front of me and I could tell that Sallis was furious. He kept staring at me. He can see like, into you, you know? I knew I wasn't safe there anymore. And now, if he's killed Jason, he's going to remember that I can link them. I have to get out of here, don't you see?" Her voice became increasingly shrill. Drumm was trying to bring her down when he heard an angry voice behind him._

_"What's going on?" Drumm glanced over his shoulder. It was Jack. "Drumm! What the hell are you doing?" Jack raced forward and threw his arms around his sister, trying to put himself between her and Drumm. Drumm stood and backed away, giving them the moment. He was about to try and explain to Jack when Sally did it for him._

_"It's not Drumm's fault, Jack. I-I just got upset. It's okay. He's trying to help me." Drumm saw Jack glare at him. Sally may have absolved him. Jack hadn't. "Listen, Jack. I've decided you're right. I want to go home. I want to go home now. Will you take me?"_

_"Sure," Jack said, surprised. "Of course! Mom will be so…." Jack hugged her tighter and then stepped back. "As soon as the doc says it's okay."_

_"Can you talk to the doctor, Jack? I want to go now. Please."_

_"Okay, okay, I'll see want I can do." Jack turned and pointed at Drumm, the soft tone hardening to stone. "You, out." Drumm stepped out of the room and waited for Jack to emerge a moment later. He was fuming._

_"Jack, I know what-"_

_"You had no right, none. You don't go near my sister again, you hear me? Ever!" Drumm could see his balled fists. He understood completely. For all that had happened to Drumm, a lot had happened to Jack too – his mom's stroke, Sally's injury which Jack had to know in his heart was self-inflicted, the band falling apart. He guessed Lise-Marie hadn't changed her mind otherwise Jack might have been a little more calm._

_"I know. I'm sorry but you have to listen to me. The guys Sally was running from are dangerous and she's right to want to go now. Are you okay for money? Can you get yourselves there?"_

_Jack had gone pale. "What are you talking about?" For the first time, Drumm regretted not telling Jack everything about his sister. _

_"When she ran away from us that day, she thought we were after her because there are people who could be. The faster she's out of town, the better. Trust me on this."_

_Jack's anger had dissipated with the threat and his innate belief in his friend of many years. He nodded. "Um, right. Yes, okay. I've got the cash. I can get us there. What then?"_

_"Then, get to know your sister. And leave me your number. If there's trouble, I need to be able to warn her." _

* * *

**To those taking the time to review, thank you. I cried writing the first half of this one. **


	23. Accidents Will Happen

**Hello. I did a Finn and went backpacking in Georgia. Actually, had a bit of an accident which meant I couldn't sit at the keyboard for long stretches for a while. Once I could again, the moose, she'd gone walkabout. She's back now, I think and I will try not to vanish off the face of the earth again… at least not until the story is told. The **_**Glee**_** characters belong to **_**Glee**_**, the rest of the characters belong to me. This story is improved no end by wood-u-like-2-no's contribution as beta and soundboard. **

**Conceit: Chapter titles are song titles. (No, my music collection does not go past about 1985. Your point?) Besides, Elvis Costello rocks.**

**+...+**

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Accidents Will Happen**

They worked another two days. Amy had called everybody in the second afternoon for the announcement that they were closing down for a week. Wally Worth was with her, glowering at them all like a cat whose cream had been lapped up by the new puppy. Rachel hoped they'd get some news about Carole since Puck was unexpectedly ill-informed but Amy said no more than Finn's mother was in critical condition and to suggest those who believed in a deity prayed for her and her son.

Rachel looked around. Normally, the prospect of an unexpected week off would be cause for celebration. Not this time, not in these circumstances; from the faces of the crew who were paid only for the days they worked, not ever. They were a desultory bunch that gathered afterwards in the nearest bar. It was very different from Finn's four-episode wrap party. This was a faux-wrap wake with a pinch of dread that it could be the real thing. Everybody knew that if they weren't back at work in a week, the whole project could go belly-up.

Rachel had trailed along to the bar with everyone else. She'd sat at a small table opposite Quinn who was busily texting Puck, getting what updates she could. Puck was the only one likely to have information outside the immediate family and the immediate family was off limits or, at least for those with common decency. Not so for the gossip rags. Rachel had seen a headline the night before on the net. _Hollywood Star in Dramatic Race to Dying Mother's Bedside! Date Night with Mystery Woman Interrupted_. She was shocked they'd picked it up so quickly. Her sympathy for Finn surged at the accompanying picture. He was in profile, leaning against a vending machine and it was clear to anyone with eyes how utterly devastated he was. Bastards.

Rachel, allowing herself a single glass of wine which she drained, sighed and looked around the bar. Nobody was smiling. She saw Alex talking quietly to Katie. When the Englishwoman glanced over at her, Rachel gave a little smile and nod before resuming her scan. She had no idea what she was looking for. Finn wasn't going to be walking in. He was thousands of miles away, sitting at his mother's bedside.

Rachel hadn't really thought about Carole Hudson-Hummel in years. It made her feel guilty now but there was nothing to link them once she and Finn were over, particularly with Rachel gone from Lima. Her dads never talked about Burt or Carole after the split but Rachel didn't know if that was to spare her feelings or because the two couples hadn't kept in touch after their children went their separate ways. She wondered if they knew or if she should tell them. They were in New York for the week and probably hadn't heard. Rachel pulled out her phone and composed a brief text. She examined it critically before deleting it. She needed to call them.

"Puck's talking to Blaine," Quinn said, reading from her phone. "They got there late last night. Carole survived the operation but she hasn't woken up. Skull fracture, ruptured spleen, three broken ribs, left leg is also broken, lots of cuts and abrasions. She's lost her right leg below the knee." Quinn's voice wavered a little and Rachel gasped. "The biggest worry is brain injury and they can't assess that until she wakes up." Quinn didn't say it but she paused as an alternative outcome lay there in plain sight…

If she wakes up.

"Neither Finn nor Burt has left the hospital since they got there. Kurt's trying to persuade them to go home and get some sleep." Quinn gave an involuntary snort, knowing that laughter was inappropriate but she couldn't help it. She looked up at Rachel. "Puck says Blaine is whining that they're getting really smelly."

Rachel gave a weak smile but before she could respond, Quinn's phone beeped again and Quinn's attention was taken by a new text.

Rachel shook her head and reminded herself that she was an optimist. Carole wasn't dead and Rachel refused to accept that she soon would be. The woman was like her; a fighter.

+...+

**Lima, 2012**

The best time to be at the Hudson-Hummel house was when everybody was out. Finn and Rachel could make the most of their privacy which they did every time they could. It was much more comfortable than the car. They didn't have the same opportunities at Rachel's house. After bizarrely encouraging them to sleep together there one night, her dads had apparently cooled on the prospect. They didn't ban her entertaining her fiancé in her room but their usually active social life of visiting friends, theatres and generally painting the town rainbow most nights suddenly became a lot less sociable and at least one of them was always hovering. If she didn't know for a fact that they supported her relationship and plans to marry Finn, she might have thought they were being deliberately obstructive.

The second best time to be at the Hudson-Hummel house was when everybody was there. Dinner was a much less sophisticated, much more raucous affair than dinner theatre at Maison Berry. Carole, Burt, Finn and Kurt created a noise volume that would have shattered her dads' prized collection of Edinburgh Crystal champagne flutes. Laughter and love were the only things the dinners had in common at the two households.

At the Hudson-Hummels, whoever cooked got the rest of the night off as the others would wash-up. The family rule didn't apply to guests so one night, after Carole presented a wonderful meal that included meat for the men in her life and vegetables roasted in olive oil for Rachel, she'd passively let Rachel lead her upstairs while the guys shouted at each other in the kitchen. Rachel led Carole to the door to Carole and Burt's bedroom and paused. Carole opened the door and gestured for Rachel to enter. Carole sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at Rachel standing in front of her.

"What's with all the cloak and dagger?"

Rachel grinned and pulled a box from her purse. "You already saw the dress at the courthouse, but I thought you might want to have the exclusive preview of my wedding present for Finn, Mrs. Hummel." Rachel was holding a long slim box.

"I was nearly your mother-in-law a couple of months ago and I'm going to be your mother-in-law in four days, Rachel," Carole said dryly. "I think by now you can call me Carole."

Rachel paused and blinked. "Thank you, Carole," she said, touched by the gesture. "My dads gave each other one when they committed so…." She held out the box in one hand and opened it with the other. "Ta-da!" Inside was a watch. The thin black round face was set in a stainless steel case with a leather strap. It was classic and it was Swiss. Rachel had sold her complete collection of Beanie Babies, handed down to her by her fathers, to pay for it. She waited anxiously for Carole's reaction.

Carole took the box and ran a finger over the watch. "It's amazing, Rachel. He will love it."

"Look at the back!" Carole took the watch gently from the box and turned it over.

_InFinnity_

"They spelt-," Carole started before stopping short. "Oh." Rachel could see Carole blinking rapidly. "That's-that's beautiful, Rachel." Carole carefully placed the watch back in the box. Watching, Rachel shuffled on her feet a little. It was embarrassing seeing an adult cry unless it was associated with her singing. She took back the box and put it back in her purse. Carole was staring at her and coughed to clear her throat.

"Rachel," Carole started uncertainly, "are you sure about this?"

"Oh, I know I should have saved the money but it's a Berry family tradition and it's important to start a marriage off properly."

"No, I don't mean the watch. I mean, are you sure about deferring NYADA?"

Rachel frowned. "Not you too! Has Finn said something?" She crossed her arms defensively. "My dads wouldn't stop going on and on about it and then Finn started…" She huffed. "I told Finn there would be no discussion. I can't believe he went behind my-"

"He didn't," Carole said quickly, "although I believe something's bothering him. I know him, Rachel, and I can't see him being happy if he thinks he's holding you back. You should talk to him about it if getting off to a good start is really important to you."

"Oh, that's not fair! You're twisting what I said."

"He's my son, Rachel. I don't play fair when it comes to him." Carole rose and put her arm gently around Rachel. "Look, I'm not saying you shouldn't defer or that you should postpone the wedding or anything. I'm just saying that I think something is worrying him and sharing worries is as important as sharing the rest of it."

Rachel stared up at her before sinking down onto the edge of the bed. "I know but…" She paused, wondering how to explain. Rachel had felt besieged over the last few days. Ever since the letters that delivered her dream but dashed those of Finn and Kurt, triumph and devastation had waged war inside her. She desperately wanted to go to New York, to start the climb that was to come, to get the rewards she'd worked so hard for but she wouldn't do it without him. She knew that he was uncomfortable with her deferring but she was equally certain that she was right. She needed someone there who loved her until the rest of the world caught up. She just couldn't get her dads to understand that and she was exhausted from the effort of trying to explain. She couldn't cope with Finn adding his voice to their appeals so she'd shut him down. She was right. All that really mattered is that they were together.

Carole sat beside her on the edge of the bed, waiting for her to gather her words. Rachel started hesitantly, her head lowered. "Mrs- Carole. You know how you told Finn that his dad died a hero in Iraq?" Rachel didn't move her head but a quick glance sideways assured her that she'd hit a mark. Carole opened her mouth to say something but Rachel pressed on. "You did it because you loved him and he needed it. Well, it's kind of like that. I'm deferring because Finn needs me and I need him. It's as necessary for me to do this for him as it was for you to tell that lie. The only difference is that you didn't have Finn in a position to argue about it."

"Now who's not playing fair?" Carole asked. She rubbed her hands down her trousers and eased herself off the bed. More sternly than she intended, she added "The difference, Rachel, is that Finn is my son, not my partner. Think about it, talk to him, please. Let him have his voice."

Rachel looked up and nodded slowly, knowing deep down that while Carole was probably right and definitely well-meaning, she couldn't face having to battle Finn on this as well as her dads. Finn would be okay. She knew with stubborn certainty that he wanted them to be together as much as she did.

Carole opened the door and walked into the hall. She looked back at Rachel and her face softened. "It is a beautiful watch."

+...+

**Hollywood, 2024**

Sitting in the bar, watching Quinn texting with eyes blind to the present, Rachel jolted in her seat. She hadn't thought about that conversation with Carole in years. When she did, it was always in the context of what came immediately after, with Finn taking her to the train station. Carole had been right. Not talking to him properly about deferring had led him to talk to her dads instead and that led to the train station. Now, for the first time, she realized that Carole had predicted more than just Rachel's second abandoned wedding. Carole had seen a future where Finn and Rachel didn't communicate and was warning Rachel that it would break them. How had she not realized that before? Why had she been so stupid to not learn from the mistake the first time round and done it again, to even more devastating consequences? What was the matter with her?

"Are you all right?"

Rachel glanced up. Katie was standing by her chair staring down at the table in front of Rachel in concern. Rachel followed her gaze and realised with surprise that the empty wine glass in her hand had broken at the stem and small beads of blood were coming from her hand. She looked over at Quinn who was staring at her in shock. Rachel realised that she must have banged it down on the table yet she hadn't felt a thing. Opening her fingers, she let the two pieces of glass fall away. The cut on her palm was shallow and not nearly as bad as the blood implied. "I'm fine," she said.

"Let me see. I've got a tissue." Katie sat on the chair next to her and took the hand. Rachel didn't resist and Katie took out a Kleenex and wiped away the blood. "Okay. It's not deep. Go wash your hands. I've got some plasters in my bag."

Rachel didn't understand a word of what Katie was saying and stared at her stupidly.

Katie smiled. "Played Florence Nightingale on the West End stage," she declared. "Took advanced first-aid for verisimilitude. Do you want me or Quinn to come with you to the ladies room?"

Rachel shook her head. She understood what Katie wanted her to do at least. She rose and made her way to the restroom, making her hand into a loose fist to avoid smearing blood on the patrons she passed. Once at the sink, she let the dispensed soap soak into her palm for a few seconds and then rubbed in it gently before running the warm water. Holding her hand under the tap, Rachel let her eyes wander up to the watch on her wrist – a man's watch, Swiss with a leather strap. She'd kept it in her jewellery box for years. Two nights, in the hour of the wolf after Mary's call when she tossed and turned before finally giving up on sleep, she'd taken it out and put it on. It was oddly comforting. Rachel turned off the tap. The abrasion was clean and no longer bleeding. She looked up, stared at her face in the mirror for a moment, and came to a decision.

Back in the bar, she watched silently as Katie applied a Band-Aid to her palm.

"Are you alright," Quinn asked, her brow furrowed in concern. "Where were you?"

Rachel shook her head. "Another time, another place. I…." She stopped and turned to Katie. "Thanks. Sorry to be such an airhead."

"It's nothing. Thank the joy of large handbags. I always carry them for emergencies. So, what are you two going to do with your unexpected week off?"

"Sleep," Quinn said without hesitation. She looked at Rachel. Quinn was still concerned, her smooth brow a little furrowed, showing interest in Rachel's response. She and Rachel had briefly talked about maybe going back to New York to catch up with old friends, something that Quinn was more comfortable doing now that she'd found some success. Rachel had been less sure. She missed New York but she was still probably persona non grata. She didn't really want to go back until she could do so in triumph. Besides, New York was not where she wanted to be. She took a deep breath and said a silent "Sorry" as she cast a brief glance Katie's way.

"I'm going to Lima."

**Drumm: Chapter Twenty-Three **

_Drumm leaned against the doorframe, watching Jack toss his stuff into a carry-on bag. It spoke to the sparseness of his wardrobe that it all fit with room to spare. Sally was sitting on the window sill, an unseasonal woollen hat covering her head bandage. Drumm saw Jack stop to gaze at his guitar case._

_"Take it with you, man."_

_Jack didn't respond and Drumm knew what was going on in his head. Whatever else was going on, Pandemic was over. It was a moment of mourning._

_"I'll talk to Johnny and Mags. They'll be fine. Maybe starting their own band will make them grow up some."_

_Jack let a small smile play over his lips and nodded. He reached out for the case and secured it to his back. "Tell them… tell them I'm sorry and that their songs are their own. Yours too, Drumm, the ones you wrote and the ones we wrote together."_

_Drumm shook his head. "You take them, Jack. With the agency, I doubt I'm going to be in this business much longer." Drumm hadn't really wanted to face that but as he said it, he suspected it might be true. He had a little mourning of his own to do. A little more mourning than he was already doing._

_"Let's keep them on ice then, yeah? Don't give it up completely, Drumm. I won't. In a world where everything turns to shit, music is one of the few things you can count on. If things go well," Jack said, throwing a swift glance as his sister, "I'll be back and you'll be the first one I come looking for." He closed the zip on the bag and cast a last look around. He'd miss the band, even Johnny and Mags with their insanity, but he wouldn't miss this dump. "Okay, let's go."_

+...+

_After leaving the Strong siblings at the airport, Drumm had nowhere else to go but the agency. It was too early to find either Johnny and Mags or Sophie Cantor, who would not want him turning up at her office. Of course, that meant he'd have to catch her alone, a situation that was itself problematic but he was pretty sure that forewarned was forearmed and that he'd be less susceptible to her charms this time round. The memory of sleeping with her still turned his stomach. It wasn't just the thing of Theo having been there first, it was that the experience was so empty, like all of them in retrospect since Elsa. Or Danny. Whoever the hell she was, she'd ruined his sex life. Being in love sucked balls._

_"Fuck!" _

_Drumm slammed his hand on the steering wheel so hard it caused the car to veer. He quickly regained control and pulled over to the serenade of honking horns. He needed to calm down. He'd pushed all the turmoil Sally had caused with her story down while getting the Strongs safely away but now there was no distraction. _

_Love? Really, Drumm? You think this is love? You're a fool, man. Infatuation, sexual attraction, obsession because she made you work for it, that's all it is. Love is all that stuff that you've been avoiding for years – hearts and puppies and chocolate. She isn't hearts and puppies and chocolate. She's blood and corpses and shit. Shit like Sallis who's probably pounding her right now. _

_Drumm cursed at the image and looked down at his hands. They were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that they'd gone white. He loosened his fingers, surprised at the fleeting pain. The inner voice, whether his devil or his angel and he really didn't know which, had engaged him longer than he would have thought possible. He leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. He had no idea what love was, that much was for certain. All he knew was that he wanted her, he couldn't stop thinking about her and, above all else, he wanted her safe – from Sallis, from the cops, from whatever demons she was battling, maybe even from himself. Was that love? _

_Drumm sighed and opened his eyes. Across the street, there was a commotion. He stared at the crowd somewhat disinterestedly until the arrival of four more patrol cars and another news van piqued his curiosity and he paid closer attention. He realised that he was opposite City Hall and that some sort of protest was going on. There were placards that read "Vote No!" and "Mallards Before Malls." Drumm saw another placard, or more accurately the remnants of one that had been torn in half, on the ground. He twisted his head to try and read it: "Go Georgie Girl!"_

_More out of desire to avoid his own thoughts, Drumm got out of the car and jogged over to the crowd, staying at the edges to avoid the cops who were starting to thump the heads of the rowdier protesters. He tried to get a grasp on what was going on but all he kept hearing was the same phrase: "Bitch changed her vote." Looking over the crowd, he spotted a reporter he recognised. The girl used to do the music reviews for one of the local papers. He gently shouldered his way through the pressed bodies to reach her. "Hey, Bella. Good to see you. What's going on?"_

_"Drumm! Pandemic, right?"_

_"Yeah. You gave us a good review and we, uh, celebrated after." His future love life might be over, but his past one was alive, kicking and still useful to bring up occasionally._

_She nodded. "I remember. You never called."_

_Drumm grimaced. "Yeah, well…." He looked down at his shoes, bringing his head up only when he heard her laugh. _

_"It's okay. I didn't pine. In that job, I was used to moving on fast. Are you one of the bird watchers?"_

_"What? No! Literally just passing by and got curious. Never could resist a riot."_

_"A riot's right. They've just announced the vote and the city's given the go ahead for the Jubilee Mall. Hello shopping, goodbye feathered friends."_

_"Surely, this mob didn't really think they had a chance of stopping progress, did they? Money versus bird sanctuary – no contest for suits."_

_"That's not what's got them worked up. Word has leaked that their beloved champion, Georgina Jensen, sold them out and voted for the mall, tipping the vote." There were signs of activity from above. "Hang on," Bella said as she turned her attention to the doors of City Hall. "Yep, here we go." Bella abandoned Drumm and pushed her way up the steps._

_There was more of a stir in the crowd and Drumm looked up to the doors. A bank of microphones had been set up and people in suits, in contrast to the mostly hippie casual crowd, were gathering. An audible hiss erupted, interspersed with cries of "Traitor" and boos, when a woman stepped up to speak. Drumm recognised the silver blond bob. He craned his neck and spotted Dr. Jeff Jensen standing placidly behind. Councilwoman Jensen was holding up her hands, seeking to quiet the angry crowd. It took a while._

_She was an attractive woman; killer body Drumm recalled. The day at the Grand Hotel he'd seen a lot of it. She'd been an enthusiastic lover with the first man who came to her room. After he left, Drumm watched her appreciatively as she dressed. He had what he needed but she lingered and he kept watching. She made a call and sat on the bed a long time, waiting patiently as she was waiting now. He was surprised when, at the Grand, she let another man into the room, two in fact although the second never left the small hall by the door and Drumm never got a look at him or a picture. Everything was trained on the bed. The man he had seen and photographed wasn't there for long but the conversation looked pretty intense. He'd meant to get around to listening to Mitch's recording one day but he never got around to it._

_Drumm focused again on the Georgina Jensen who was waiting to address the unruly crowd and was shocked to see that she was just as focused on him. As soon as their eyes locked, she looked away and started to speak._

_"Ladies and gentlemen, I can confirm that the vote has been counted and the decision has been made to allow Falkirk Investments to build the Jubilee Mall." There were boos and shouts of protest and insults. She paused to let them die down. "I know many of you are disappointed but I've been assured by the CEO of Falkirk that they will be making arrangements to fund the relocation of the Thompson Bird Sanctuary." There were more boos amid angry shouts of scepticism. Georgina ignored them this time, raising her voice a little to be heard. "I stood with you all for a long time but in the end, I was persuaded that a solution that ensured both jobs for our citizens and protection of our wildlife was the only way forward. I understand," she continued against the growing tide of sound and restlessness, "that some of you are angry but the men and women who will be able to support their families by the work provided during the building and operation of the project deserve your support. I hope you'll come to see that this was the right decision. Thank you."_

_The councilwoman stepped back from the microphone bank, ignoring questions shouted at her. Drumm watched as she walked to the side of her husband. Jeff Jensen was watching the crowd, face beaming, although the smile froze when he spotted Drumm. Drumm gave a brief nod and started backwards, away from the melee. Another speaker was approaching the microphone bank and Drumm stopped, not because of the speaker but because of the man at his side. It was the man from the Grand; not the lover, the other one. Interesting. Drumm waited to hear the name of the man being introduced: Gerard Chamberlain, CEO of Falkirk Investments. Very interesting._

+...+

_Back at base, Drumm looked for Sid but he'd apparently been persuaded to go home. More likely bullied. Alyssa was in a foul mood. Drumm was cautious._

_"Hey, Alyssa. How's it going?"_

_"How do you think it's going, you asinine pasty ape? I've still got that goon slobbering all over me and I'm this close to putting a bullet between his eyes. This job should have been over, damn it!" With that she smashed the phone receiver in her hand down on the desk, breaking it into pieces. Mitch, who had kept his head down very low, jumped in his seat before returning to his occupation with the machine on his desk. Alyssa started breathing deeply._

_"Sorry, Alyssa, I really-"_

_"Shut up, Drumm. It's not your fault." The anger had dissipated with the physical release. "Bad night. Worse day." Drumm took a breath to ask more. Alyssa held up her hand, her temper rising again. "And before you ask, I didn't see Elsa. She wasn't there last night."_

_"Danny."_

_"What?"_

_Drumm recounted the story Sally had told him. Mitch listened in and sighed._

_"Well, we suspected she wasn't who she claimed to be. It's not much to go on but it's something."_

_"It's another needle in another fucking haystack is what it is," Alyssa said despondently. "I think it's time to change strategy. How 'bout a knuckleduster and I spend ten minutes with her."_

_Drumm, still uncertain of the temperature, stared helplessly at his colleague._

_"She doesn't mean it, Drumm," Mitch said with a smile._

_"No, I don't. Honestly, I actually quite like her but she's jerking us around. __**You**__ around anyway, except you probably deserve it," she finished, glaring at Drumm again. _

_Drumm risked another storm but he had to know. "Have we got anything on this witness who says they saw Elsa argue with Montana? Did Elizabeth come over?"_

_Mitch rescued him by responding succinctly. "Nothing and yes." Drumm raised his eyebrows, waiting for the rest. Mitch shrugged, indicating he had nothing else to tell. Drumm glanced over at Alyssa but she was avoiding eye contact. Drumm decided to take the hint and to slink over to his new desk in the main office. He noticed that the whiteboard had disappeared. He assumed Sid and Mitch had moved it to Theo's – Sid's office by now. He'd leave it to Sid to add the new information. Drumm checked his watch. It was still too early to find Sophie or Johnny and Mags. He needed something to do._

_Drumm had never read the whole Jensen file. He'd just gone where he was told and got the pictures. He rose and went to find it. He cursed on returning to his desk and opening the almost empty file. Of course, he thought, all the pictures had been sent to Jeff Jensen. It didn't matter. He knew who he'd seen; besides, he was pretty sure that Mitch kept negatives. What was left in the file was Theo's note on Jensen's first visit to the agency. It hadn't been sent because it wasn't for Jensen's eyes. It recorded Jensen's suspicions about his wife but also noted Jensen seemed to be a typical loser cuckolded by an ambitious and successful wife. It was a harsh but accurate judgement with which Drumm agreed. At the bottom, Theo had written "Take it?" Drumm paused. What was that about? Did Theo have doubts about Jensen? The man was very anxious to get everything Theo had collected. Now that he thought about it, Drumm remembered just how anxious Jensen was._

_"Mitch?"_

_"Mmmm." Mitch didn't look up. He was fiddling with the machine in front of him. Drumm looked more closely and realized what it was._

_"Is that the recorder from the Grand Hotel? Jensen case?"_

_"Yep."_

_"Did you send Jensen the tape?"_

_"Nope."_

_"Why not?"_

_Mitch finally looked up, exasperated. "Drumm, what does it look like I'm doing?"_

_Drumm shrugged. "I don't know. Taking it apart?"_

_"Good boy. Now why might I be doing that?"_

_"I have no ide- Are you trying to tell me the tape's still in there?"_

_"Yep. Stuck. Been that way since you gave it back to me. Been meaning to ask what the hell you did to it."_

_"Nothing! I didn't touch it. It ran fine. I rewound at the hotel and then brought it back. I never listened."_

_"Well, somebody did because it's jammed about three-quarters of the way through. It was like that when I took it home."_

_"I didn't…" Drumm tried to think. That was the day Theo died, the day of the night anyway. "Mitch, when did you take it home?"_

_"When? The next day. After, you know, we heard about Theo. I wasn't sure we were going to keep going and I didn't want to lose the equipment." Mitch had the grace to blush a little._

_"So it was here that night?"_

_"Your point?"_

_"Well, if I didn't listen and you didn't listen and…." Drumm looked over at Alyssa whose attention had been caught. She shook her head. "Assuming it wasn't Sid, the only person who could have done it was Theo. That night. That's something we didn't know. Could be important, right?" _

* * *

**To those taking the time to review, thank you; feeling a bit rusty and critiques would be helpful.  
**


	24. The Long and Winding Road

**Interesting fact: this story is already longer than _Wuthering__ Heights_. With _Drumm_ reaching the end of HBO Episode Six and four episodes (or sixteen chapters) to go, will this give _War and Peace_ a run for its money? Will you all run away, screaming in horror? The _Glee_ characters belong to _Glee_, the rest of the characters belong to me. This story is improved no end by wood-u-like-2-no's contribution as beta and soundboard. **

**Conceit: Chapter titles are song titles. The Beatles knew a thing or two.**

**+...+**

**Chapter Twenty-Four: The Long and Winding Road**

Click. $58.95.

The quickest route was to fly to Detroit and get down to Lima by car. At LAX, she stirred little interest and at the airport in Detroit, none. She hadn't spent the years since she was three preening in front of the mirror and practicing her paparazzi poses to be ignored so this would normally make her peevish. Not today. She'd taken care to avoid the pap spots in LA. She'd donned large sunglasses and a baseball cap. Nobody bothered her on the plane and in Detroit…. Do they even have paps in Detroit, she wondered? Even so, she pouted when she realised how easy it had been to slip out of Hollywood and into Detroit without attracting any attention. Finn would have been fighting them off. Was that jealousy she was feeling?

Click. $72.30.

Her dads were in China – a business trip for one turned into an opportunistic vacation for both – otherwise they would have picked her up from the airport and she wouldn't be in this taxi cab, mesmerized by the sound of the cab's metre as the cents and dollars totted up with the miles. She hadn't faced poverty long between Bradley losing her fortune and securing _Drumm_, but it was long enough to be aware of waste. Rachel sighed. The truth was she'd never faced penury. Her dads would have supported her as long as she needed. She was being overly dramatic; great trait for Broadway, not so much for her life.

Click. $99.20.

It wasn't worth hiring a car. She'd be able to use whichever vehicle her dads had left at the house. She half expected and fully hoped it would be LeRoy's small Ford convertible. She hated driving the Range Rover. It was so big. Reaching the pedals made her leg muscles ache and it took an hour to raise the seat high enough for her to be able to see over the top of the steering wheel. An exaggeration, of course, but she had never been a patient soul. She was sure she was fretting over nothing. With the amount of luggage they would have packed, her dads were sure to have taken the larger car to the airport.

Click. $126.70.

Jealous, over-dramatic, impatient. It was beat-up-on-Rachel day in the mind of Ms. Berry. Correction. Days. It was past midnight. Since yesterday, she'd done nothing but berate herself for choices she had made or, more specifically, the way she made them. She was still convinced that in most respects they were the right ones. It was time to stop. The darling ingénue of Broadway did not make it by second-guessing herself. She was what she was; driven, ambitious, focused, sometimes blinkered and frequently annoying to others. It was still kind of amazing that this was the person with whom Finn Hudson had fallen in love.

And out.

"Shut up!"

The car veered slightly as Rachel's shout startled the driver. She met his eyes through the rear view mirror. She smiled sweetly. "Sorry. Talking to myself." The driver nodded but she noticed that from then on, he kept darting glances at her. She nearly laughed. He thought he had a mad woman in his car. He wasn't wrong.

Click. $169.55.

"I always feel like you hear me better when I'm not talking," Finn had said before singing to secure her consent to his marriage proposal.

He wasn't blameless, not by a long way. He didn't find a song to sing. He didn't try that hard to talk her out of derailing her career by deferring NYADA. He needed and wanted to be with her as much as she needed and wanted to be with him. She really believed that was true.

He could have respected her decision. Kurt did and didn't try to talk her out of it at all. She was nearly eighteen, damn it, a grown woman. Well, okay, maybe not a grown woman. She smiled faintly when she thought about the stupid things she still did, never mind what she did and thought in her late teens and twenties.

Finn was so insecure back then; failing to get into PACE, still obsessing about his dad's legacy, freaking out about finding his place in a world where being the quarterback wasn't enough, and worried about holding her back. Santana did a real number on him targeting that. It was something they'd both long ago forgiven their sharp-tongued club mate for doing but still, Santana fed the growth of the vine that was insidiously twisting its way around Finn Hudson's soul and sapping the confidence out of him. There was only so much Rachel could do to bolster him and it wasn't enough. That, more than their age, was proof of how disastrous it would have been for them to marry then. It could never have lasted. So even if she'd listened to Carole, tackled Finn on what was bothering him in the days before he put her on that train and successfully reassured him for as long as it took to marry, the result could have been even more devastating than Finn going to her dads. And the plain truth was that the conspiracy didn't end them. The end came later on a rainy night in New York.

The cab driver was staring at her again. She was softly singing the chorus of "A Rainy Night in Georgia." Distracting the driver was definitely a bad idea. She stopped.

Click. $214.20.

Hindsight was a wonderful thing but worse than useless when trying to work out what to do next. Balance was the key. If she learned nothing else from her critique of herself and her life, it was that her biggest failing was getting the balance right between what she wanted for herself and what she wanted for her heart. She'd been ignoring the latter for years, given up on it, allowing that side of her be unfulfilled. Being around him the last few months had opened her eyes to just how empty that left her. No more. She wanted it all, the career _and_ the hearts, flowers and feelings of loving and being loved. If they could genuinely reconnect, she knew without a doubt that most of all, she wanted that with Finn Hudson.

Click. $298.45.

As the cab turned into the street, Rachel's mood was buoyant, despite the reason she was in Lima. She had no grand plan to seduce him while his mother was in the hospital, possibly dying. When the time was right, when he was ready, she'd tell him how she felt with no holds barred and leave it to the gods. It's kind of what she'd been trying to do but now she was fully committed. And it came out of her, not out of the advice of others. Then, if Finn didn't feel the same way, if he wanted to move on with Katie or anyone else, she'd accept that and go on with a broken but open heart. In the meantime, she just wanted to care for him. She was here because Finn might need her. He might find comfort in her presence and that seemed as good a start as any.

Smiling and confident, she told the driver to swipe her card for $350. He did so without expression and returned her card. As he drove away, she thought she heard him call out, "Nice voice." She beamed. She turned towards the empty house and the grin faded.

"Shit."

In the carport was the Range Rover.

+...+

The house was dark with no sign of movement. There was a car in the drive but she didn't recognise it. Rachel checked her watch. It was 7:45am. After a few hours sleep to supplement the naps she'd taken on the plane and in the taxi, she'd climbed into the giant beast that was Hiram's car and driven over to the Hudson-Hummel residence. It suddenly occurred to her that maybe they didn't live there anymore and maybe it was still too early to knock at the door of a house of strangers. Maybe she should call Finn or Kurt first. She chewed her lip for a full minute before her resolve stiffened. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, she thought firmly as she made the descent onto the street. Looking on the bright side, just getting in and out and shutting the door of the beast was a handy work out.

At the door she paused, her ear to it. Nothing. She knocked softly and then a little harder. After what seemed like minutes but was only seconds, she heard the sounds of a chain sliding.

"Rachel!" Blaine Anderson had not changed one bit in twelve years, even down to the bow tie. Blaine whispered excitedly as he ushered her in. "Come in, come in. It's so great to see you! Kurt's been telling me all about seeing you again."

"You still have the bow tie," Rachel said, a little stunned by the effusiveness.

"Yeah, I'm kind of stuck with it now. I used to wear one now and then for fun but they loved it in Paris and wanted it in the commercial. It's become a bit of a trend and my trademark."

"Why are we whispering?"

Blaine gestured at the stairs. "Burt's asleep. Been back an hour. It's a major effort to get him to come home at all so when we do, we make sure we don't disturb him. Once he goes off to sleep, he's there for ten hours. You just missed Kurt. He and Finn are at the hospital. Is that why you've come?"

"I came," she started before realising that she didn't know what to say. "I came to help, if I can, however I can."

"Aw, that's sweet. There's not really anything to do but you can come and keep me company while I pack. I'm downstairs."

They tip-toed down the stairs as quietly as they could. Kurt's bedroom took up the whole of the basement. He and Blaine had to have been back to Lima enough times to take an interest in its décor, she noticed. Burt and Carole would never have kept its style so updated and modern. It reminded her of her dads' need to stay current and she smiled. What did not remind her of her dads was the mess in the centre of the room. Suitcases and clothes were spilled everywhere. She looked at Blaine with raised brows.

"Yeah, I know. This isn't how it usually looks, honestly. I'm trying to sort out my stuff and Kurt's stuff, some of which he wants me to take back and some to stay. He hasn't been that specific about which is which."

Kurt was obviously distracted, Rachel thought, reminding her of what should have been her first question. "How's Carole?"

Blaine sighed, throwing a patterned sweater vest into one of the suitcases. "Honestly, it doesn't look good. She's not come round from the operation and the longer she's in a coma…." Blaine trailed off. They both knew what it meant. "Anyway, Finn wants to move her to a specialist hospital but there isn't one in Lima. Burt wants her to stay close to home. They haven't come to blows yet but it could be coming."

"But you're leaving?"

"Kurt insists."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you and Kurt…."

"No, no, nothing like that." Blaine was shaking his head vigorously. "I have a concert tomorrow night in Paris. Kurt didn't want me to cancel. I'm a one-hit wonder with the geriatric crowd but this is a televised concert that could quote broaden my appeal end quote. That's what my agent's saying. Kurt hates my old ladies. He says if he's going to have to deal with my fans, there better be some hot guys among them."

Rachel smiled. She could imagine Kurt and Blaine squabbling lovingly like the old, married couple they were. She regretted even more that she hadn't been around to enjoy it.

"There's not a lot I can do around here anyway," Blaine continued. "I've just been keeping the house clean, making sure they eat and ferrying them to and from the hospital. Plus," he added softly, "the accident has galvanized Kurt's enthusiasm for a baby. He wants me to press on with sorting out what we are going to do." Blaine sat down on the cluttered bed. "He told me what you said to him, Rachel. I hope you don't mind. I wanted to say how grateful I was to you for that. I am sorry though that you went through what you did. It must have been awful for you." Rachel could see Blaine's eyes welling up and she couldn't bear to watch. She picked up a pair of riding breeches and started to fold them.

"I don't mind him telling you," she said, her eyes focused on her task. "I'm glad you're both on the same page." To herself, she added, unlike me and Finn. She picked up another garment to avoid further conversation. He understood and returned to sorting out the clothes, directing her as to what to put where. After an hour, they were done.

"So when are you going?"

"Taxi comes at ten so time for a coffee and a catch-up."

"Taxi?"

"Yeah. I didn't bother with a limo because I wasn't sure until this morning I was going. Kurt took the car we hired to use here back to the hospital. Cab's taking me to the airport in Columbus."

"Cancel it. I'll take you. It's a waste of money."

"Rachel, the money isn't a problem-"

"Please, Blaine. I want to be useful. It's only an hour and a half to Columbus. I'll be back long before Burt wakes up. My cooking's improved, I promise. I'll have a hot meal waiting for him. On the way to the airport, you can tell me everything else I need to know about keeping this house straight. Please."

Blaine was still hesitant. "Maybe we should check with the others first."

Rachel had sworn to herself that she would not steam-roller her way past the objections of those who had the right to make them ever again. Yet, she was who she was and she was oddly content to do it again now. Maybe the point of learning lessons was to acknowledge the truth about yourself and accommodate it, not to try and change your very nature. She turned her most charming smile on Blaine.

"We should but we won't. They might say no and never eat or sleep or wash again. Then where would we all be?"

+...+

She pulled up outside the house. Burt's car was still in the driveway. Excellent. She grabbed the bags of groceries she'd picked up and quietly entered the house with Blaine's key. She went straight to the kitchen and started to prepare a couple of potatoes for baking and a Greek salad. The raw steak she shoved in the refrigerator. It was too early to bring to room temperature. It was a simple meal and would suit Burt. Glancing around the kitchen, she saw that Blaine had left it tidy but she wasn't happy about the state of the floor. She got to work.

Waxed floor gleaming and a steak warming to room temperature on a plate ready to cook, she checked the potatoes in the oven. She was contemplating pulling them out to reheat them in the microwave later when she heard movement from upstairs. Perfect. She turned on the heat under the pan for the steak and got the salad and dressing out of the refrigerator. She heard Burt coming down the stairs and smoothed down the apron. She twisted around, ready to explain what she was doing in his house.

Of course, she should have known from the moment she saw the Range Rover that things were never going to go exactly how she expected. It wasn't Burt. It was Finn, gaunt, pale, dressed only in a pair of jeans and peering at her like she was the creature from the black lagoon. Unprepared, she imagined that she was doing much the same. She had to resist the urge to put her hand to her mouth to check if it was hanging open. They stood and stared at each other, a frozen tableau in a hot kitchen.

**Drumm: Chapter Twenty-Four **

_"I could splice the tape. We'd lose the section that's tangled in the rollers but we'd have the rest. Then again, it's a fairly big chunk to lose."_

_"What's the alternative?" Sid had made his way in, been briefed and was hovering over Mitch's desk._

_"Well, if I can get it out in one piece, then we might be able to make out most of the damaged section."_

_"All right. Try and get it out in one piece." Sid turned back to Drumm. "Tell me again about what you saw at the hotel."_

_Drumm shook his head. "Nothing much. There was the usual with the guy and then he left. She hung around and let two guys into the room. The camera only caught the second guy's shoulder. He stayed near the door hall so I never saw his face. The other one was Gerard Chamberlain. They talked and then the two guys left, followed by Mrs. Jensen."_

_"And Theo knew what you'd seen?"_

_More slowly, as he tried to think back, Drumm said, "I told Theo that I got the money shot, that there was more than one guy, that I'd left the camera with Mitch…" _

_"What about the recording?"_

_"I think so, Sid, but I couldn't swear to it. It was a really short conversation. He had other things on his mind," like thinking I was using again, Drumm added silently to himself._

_"He knew," Mitch said. "I was supposed to be putting together the small recorder he was going to use at the Pink Leopard that night and he called me back to the office to finish it. He knew I was at the hotel and that I was setting up the equipment."_

_"Okay. Here's what we'll do. Mitch, keep working on salvaging the whole thing. Alyssa, I want you to run a check on Chamberlain and the company, particularly on its development of the mall."_

_"And me, boss?"_

_Sid looked down at Drumm, lounging back in his seat. "When you spoke to Jensen, did you ask him if Theo had been in touch?"_

_"Specifically? No. But from what he said the answer to that would have been no. He was expecting to hear from him the next day."_

_"Like they set up a meeting?"_

_"Yeah, I suppose."_

_"And when did they do that?"_

_"When? Um…" Drumm kicked himself. Sid was right. Theo would have no reason to meet with Jensen until he had something to show him and Theo had nothing until that day. It made sense that Theo talked Jensen, told him what he had. "I'll go see Jensen again."_

_"No." Drumm sank back down in his seat. Of course not. One of them was better equipped to do it. Sid must have read his mind and the nap in his own bed had sweetened his temper enough to reassure him. "Oh, I want you to go see Jensen, Drumm, don't worry. His reaction to your presence at City Hall is worth capitalising on. But I want to see how we get on with the tape and what Alyssa drags up. I want a better picture of what we're dealing with first." _

+...+

_It wasn't broken but it wasn't very usable either. She'd spent a couple of hours at A&E the night before, missing her set for the first time since she'd joined the minions of Hell at the Pink Leopard. She'd had to say that she'd hurt her wrist and gained the bruises on her face and arms by falling down the stairs. They hadn't believed a word of it but she wouldn't give them permission to examine the rest of her body and there was nothing they could do. Drumm would say she deserved it, staying with a monster. He wouldn't be wrong. She kicked herself for letting him into her head again. It was Tony who took her to the hospital. He was pretty bruised himself and like her, told to stay in the apartment, but Pepper must have been having a real effect on him. The minute Sallis walked out the door, Tony'd told her to get her coat and driven her over to the hospital and back. Sallis spotted the bandage as soon as he came in, but didn't interrogate her. She hoped Tony could say the same. She hadn't seen him since._

_Another goon was jailor today, a new one that Elsa didn't remember seeing before. He was six five and round but there was nothing jolly about him. Actually, there was nothing human about him. He hadn't said a word. So when the knock on the door came, she was surprised at how high-pitched his voice was._

_"I'm Detective Elizabeth Mortimer. I'd like to speak to Elsa Cannotti." _

_"She's indisposed, Detective. Come back tomorrow."_

_"I talk to her now or I arrest her. Your choice."_

_New Goon stared at the woman at the door a moment before moving aside. Elsa saw a woman of about forty step over the threshold and into the apartment. Her mind was working furiously. Arrest her? For what? What had Drumm told the cops? She moved forward slowly. "I'm Elsa Cannotti. How can I help you?"_

_She was conscious of being appraised but she was more alert to what the New Goon was up to. He'd moved over to the hall table and picked up the phone. He was calling Sallis. Sallis would want her to stay silent until he got to the apartment. Elsa wasn't in the mood to appease Sallis today. She turned her attention back to the detective. "Please, come this way."_

_Elsa led Elizabeth into the lounge and gestured for her to take a seat. "Can I get you something? Coffee?"_

_"No, Miss Cannotti, I'm not here for refreshments. Sit down."_

_Elsa noted the tone and perched on the edge of the couch without further comment. She was imagining all the ways in which she would cause Drumm pain when the detective pulled out a photograph._

_"Do you know this man?" It was just the head. He looked like he was asleep. _

_"That's Jason Montana, a f-." Elsa caught herself. "A friend. Why are you showing me his picture?" Elsa was already experiencing a feeling of dread._

_"How do you know him?"_

_Careful. "I knew him when I was younger. Saw him again when I came to the city. Please tell me what's going on?"_

_"Just a few questions."_

_"You threatened to arrest me."_

_The detective glanced at New Goon and smiled. "It worked, didn't it?" For the briefest of moments, Elsa and the detective shared an understanding and a tiny smile. Then the detective dropped the smile. "So, when was the last time you saw him."_

_That was safe. "Yesterday. He was in the club, the Pink Leopard. That's where I work. I sing."_

_"This was at what time?"_

_Elsa frowned. It was before she'd had to go rescue Drumm and bring down Sallis's wrath on her head. "Probably around two-thirty, three o'clock, something like that," she said uncertainly. Detective Mortimer nodded and made a note. _

_"The club's open then?"_

_"No. I was there for rehearsals. Detective-"_

_"What did you two talk about?"_

_"The weather. What's going on?"_

_"Did you argue about the weather?" Elsa couldn't miss the sarcasm but she was too busy being stunned by what this woman seemed to know. How did she know and how did she connect Elsa to Jason anyway?_

_"No. We fought about Jason trying to tell me what to do with my life." The detective was looking at her with one raised brow. "He didn't like me working at the club. I'd told him I would leave eventually. It wasn't soon enough for him. And now, I refuse to answer any more questions until you tell me exactly why you are here."_

_"Well, since he was a friend of yours, I'm sorry to tell you that Mr. Montana was fished out of the river last night. The bullets in him impeded his attempts to save himself from drowning." _

_"Oh, my God." Elsa was faking nothing. She was genuinely shocked and even more genuinely aggrieved. What had Jason done? Was this her fault? She told him to stay out of it, begged him. What had she done?_

_The door of the apartment burst open. Sallis marched in, red in the face. Elsa realised that he couldn't have been at the club. He would never have gotten here so quickly. Wherever he'd been, he'd raced back and was very unhappy. "Show me your ID," he barked at the detective._

_Calmly, Detective Mortimer pulled the wallet out of her pocket. Elsa could have sworn that she saw New Goon on his toes, his hand under his jacket. Sallis took the ID and peered at it intently. He threw it back at her, nearly hitting her in the face. Elsa admired the woman's composure._

_"Get away from my fiancée and get out of my apartment," he said firmly._

_"I'm done for now, Mr. Sallis," the detective said, rising, "but I'm likely to have more questions for both of you about the murder of Jason Montana. I suggest you find a lawyer. Soon."_

_Elsa was glued to the couch. Fiancée?_

+...+

_Drumm had found Johnny and Mags and left them arguing about what they were going to do. He didn't have time for the recriminations or bitching. Sitting in Sophie's living room, waiting, he took the time to catch a nap. It seemed like a long time since he last slept in a bed and the armchair was seductively comfortable. _

_"You could have just called."_

_He opened his eyes. If he'd called, she'd have come to his apartment and the last thing he needed was Sophie Cantor in his apartment. He wasn't going to say any of that to her now. He was the bearer of bad news and whatever the hell was going on between her father and Sallis, Drumm believed that she would take it hard. Looking up at her now, holding a glass of wine in one hand and a bottle of beer held out to him in the other, he was again struck by her perfect features. They were way too perfect for him. She looked wan and tired though. She might be having no better of a week than he was. _

_Drumm took the beer and a swig of it as she settled herself on the couch. Sid and he had talked about what he was going to tell her. Drumm was to say nothing about what Sally had told them except to try and get confirmation that her father knew Sallis. Otherwise, he was to stick to what the cops knew. He took another swallow of the beer as she gazed at him levelly. "I'm sorry, Sophie. I don't know how else to say this. Jason Montana is dead."_

_True to ice queen form, Sophie hardly reacted but he could see the blood drain from her already pale face. "When?" The question came scarcely above the sound of her breath._

_"Yesterday." _

_He watched her take a long drink from her glass, emptying it. She rose and returned to the kitchen. He heard the chink of the bottle and the gurgle as the glass was refilled. She returned to the couch and sunk down onto it. _

_"Where?"_

_"The police aren't sure. He was left in the river."_

_Drumm could see Sophie's hand gripped tightly around the glass. He was afraid it would break. She was throwing back the wine again. He rose to take the glass and put it on the coffee table in front of her. He sat beside her and put his arm around her, hugging her and they were silent for a moment. He let her pull away the moment he felt movement. She reached for the glass again and took another gulp._

_"Sophie, did Jason or has your father ever mentioned the Pink Leopard or Wilson Sallis?"_

_Sophie's hand froze, the glass halfway to her lips. She blinked rapidly before letting the wine continue to its destination. She drained the glass again. Looking at Drumm, she shook her head. He returned her stare, disbelieving. Sophie shrugged and turned her attention at the wall straight ahead of her._

_"It's true. Neither did. But I know my dad went there. He liked the company. But Jason? Not his sort of place. Are you saying there's a connection between the Pink Leopard and Jason's murder?" _

_He was going further than he should, he knew, but she seemed so fragile. He didn't want to lie. "I think so, yeah."_

_"Do the police think so?"_

_Drumm shrugged. "Not yet but they will." The truth was they were going to have to come clean with Elizabeth about what Drumm had seen the day before and about Sally Strong and her story. "The good news is that the cops have Jason's address. If the research is there, you should be able to recover it."_

_"Yes," she said, "the research." She reached for the empty glass. Drumm picked it up and carried it to the kitchen. He refilled it, finishing off the bottle. A bottle of wine in less than ten minutes; damn it, he was pretty sure he was going to have to put her to bed, maybe even stay to make sure she was okay. He paused and considered tossing the wine down the sink and filling the glass with water but she probably had more bottles. Besides, in the circumstances, it seemed cruel. He returned to Sophie and handed her the glass. She cradled it between her hands._

_"Drumm, what's the connection?"_

_"Still working on it."_

_"Just you?"_

_He hadn't told her that he shared everything with the others at the agency. She was so paranoid about everything being kept confidential. This was an easy lie. "Yeah."_

_"Will you warn me if the police are about to sniff around the company."_

_He stared at her. He realised she was more worried about that than about Jason's death. He nodded slowly, uncertain of what else to do. "If I can," he said. He didn't know if he was lying this time or not. She was throwing him. Again. Drumm had to give up dealing with women altogether. He was so lousy at it._

_He reached for his beer and took a couple of long swallows. If he was going to have to hang around to make sure she didn't asphyxiate on her own vomit, he needed it. At least he was free of any and all temptation to touch her again. He didn't want frostbite. It hurt-_

_It hit him almost immediately. He was an addict too long not to know exactly what it was that hit him and not to know that he wasn't just being blasted into a sudden high, he was overdosing. He dropped the bottle and tried to turn his head but when he did, all he saw was the floor before oblivion took him. _

* * *

**To those taking the time to review, thank you****.**


	25. Always Coming Back to You

**The **_**Glee**_** characters belong to **_**Glee**_**, the rest of the characters belong to me. This story is improved no end by wood-u-like-2-no's contribution as beta and soundboard. **

**Conceit: Chapter titles are song titles. This one is from a man with a voice like molten chocolate, Scott Walker. If you take the time to find any of his stuff, you will want to drown in that voice.**

**+...+**

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Always Coming Back to You**

"Are you here to take me back to LA?"

The rush to Ohio, the tension, the moment, all disappeared for Rachel in the light of this absurd question from a man full-grown and a movie star. Rachel, uncontrollably, started to laugh. She spit out, "What? No!" before she managed to stop. He was staring at her confused and lost. She regained control instantly and her voice softened. "I'm here because I thought you could use some support. And I was right. Blaine's gone. I took him to the airport. Somebody needs to keep an eye on you guys. And," she paused, willing her voice to stay steady, "until your mom recovers, who better than me?"

Finn didn't move. She was struck by how hollow he seemed, all husk and no kernel. Taking charge was the only thing to do.

"You go find a shirt. Blaine left all the laundry clean and folded in there." Rachel pointed to the tiny room off the kitchen that held the washing machine and drier. "I'm making you something to eat." He still didn't react. She realized that he wasn't staring at her but through her. "Go," she said more firmly, approaching him and touching his arm. "Now!"

Touch, tone, or both, Finn came out of his stupor. He nodded and went to find a shirt. Rachel busied herself with the steak, laying it onto the plate as he emerged. Rachel silently noted the plaid shirt and tee underneath. He looked so like he did in high school that her breath caught in her throat.

Finn opened his mouth. Rachel held up her hand.

"Sit. Eat. We can talk after the ice cream. If you want." Rachel prayed he wouldn't argue. It was all she could do not to run forward and hold him, sooth and comfort him. It was an intimacy that would be expected between old friends but they weren't friends, they were something else. She didn't want to add anything to the pressure he was already feeling. He shut his mouth and nodded. She might have imagined his faint smile. He sat down, picked up the knife and fork, and slowly started to eat.

She'd forgotten to get him a drink. Water or milk? She could ask but instead she poured him a glass of chocolate milk. He needed building up. She put it down on the table in front of him.

"Seriously?"

She grinned at this first sign of the Finn Hudson within and nodded. He sighed, picked up the glass and drained it. It was too cute that he had a chocolate milk moustache. She turned away to avoid the temptation to remove it with her… anything, and returned to the steak pan. Washing it would be a useful distraction.

When the pan was very, very clean, she turned to see that he'd finished his meal and was leaning back in the chair. She hurried to the freezer.

"No ice cream, Rachel, thanks. I'm kind of full."

"Seriously?" She faced him with her hands on her hips. "I bet you've hardly eaten anything, Finn Hudson. Blaine told me and I can see it myself. What have you had today, for example?"

He reddened and looked embarrassed. "Well, actually, today, I stopped on the way home from the hospital and got a couple of breakfast burritos. I knew Blaine was going back to Paris."

"When?" Rachel felt indignant.

Finn shrugged. "About two hours ago. I came home to shower, make some calls and catch up on some sleep, so I picked them up on the way. When I finished the calls, I heard noises from downstairs, grabbed my jeans and… here I am."

"You jerk! Why didn't you say something?" She untied the apron and wrested it off.

He grinned. "I know you when you're on a mission, Rachel Berry. I learned a long time ago not to get in the way. And besides, it smelled really good."

Rachel threw the apron at his head. He caught it in one hand with a laugh. She couldn't help but giggle. "I thought you were Burt. I mean, when Blaine and I left for Columbus, it was Burt upstairs."

"Yeah, he didn't sleep long. He turned up at the hospital around noon. We tried to send him home again but no go. Once he fell asleep in the chair, Kurt insisted I do something about my 'pungent aroma.' I didn't think I was that bad," he added with a frown.

"Wait, does all this mean you haven't slept?"

"Not yet, but I'm okay."

"Bed."

"Rachel…"

"No. Bed. Now. Don't make me march you upstairs, put you in your pyjamas and tuck you in."

"Tempting as it is to see you try," he said, rising from the kitchen table chair, "I'm not going to argue. I'm beat. Although I don't bother with pyjamas anymore." Rachel didn't imagine it this time. There was definitely a faint smile and a glint in his eye. Both disappeared as he continued, "But listen, Aunt Theresa is coming the day after tomorrow and knowing her, she'll want to take charge, so, you know, don't feel you have to do stuff around the house. Why don't you go spend some time with your dads?"

"I'll do that," Rachel lied. "But not before I hear you snoring."

Finn made his way to the door but turned back as he reached it. "It's great to see you, Rach. Thanks for coming. It means a lot."

+...+

Rachel added to the Greek salad for Kurt and left some part-baked potatoes near the microwave, a huge bowl of fruit on the table, the other steaks in the fridge, and a note to the Hummels about the fresh food she'd bought and stored. Then, staying true to her word, sitting on the floor of the upstairs hall leaning against the wall near the door to Finn's room, she waited until she heard the soft sound of snoring. She listened for a long time before finally rising and making her way to his door. Opening it quietly, she watched him sleep. She stood there even longer than she'd waited in the hall before finally leaving the house.

Rachel wasn't ready for her own bed yet. There was only one other place she wanted to go, so she climbed into the beast and drove to the hospital.

She avoided reception. She wasn't a family member and Blaine had told her where to go. Rachel avoided being challenged all the way to the small waiting area in intensive care and that was empty. Breathing a sigh of relief, she walked over to the door behind which Carole lay. Through the glass, she saw Burt sitting at Carole's side, stroking her hand. Kurt was by the window, staring out over the hospital's grounds. Rachel watched for a while, fighting the urge to walk in. She'd spent hours watching and waiting today. It was starting to make her feel a little crazy. With a sigh, she turned away and took one of the seats.

"Excuse me, who are you here for?"

The nurse in front of her was tapping her foot. Rachel stood and prepared to launch into the bizarre story she'd created in the beast on the way over. She was Carole's daughter, given up for adoption as a baby and she'd just discovered her whereabouts. It was a story that Rachel could relate to, helping her to hit the right emotional note and if that didn't get sympathy, nothing would. Rachel opened her mouth and didn't get a word out.

"Rachel?" Kurt emerged from Carole's room.

"Kurt!" Rachel rushed over to him, throwing herself into a bear hug. Kurt put his arms around her and squeezed. The rest of the world faded as they took silent comfort in each other. It lasted only as long as the nurse's patience.

"Mr. Hummel, you know the rules. Only two at a time."

"I know, I know, Nurse Ratched, I mean, Radnor." Kurt smiled with the deliberate misnomer. It was a tribute to his charm and a nod to the obvious history of an old argument rehearsed with good heart between the nurse and the Hudson-Hummel family. "I'm going home for a while. Rachel's an old family friend. It's okay for her to see Mom, isn't it?"

The nurse was looking doubtful.

"I nearly was family," Rachel interjected, anxious to earn Nurse Radnor's good graces.

"Rachel and Finn were engaged for a while. They got to the courthouse and everything but then this friend had a car accident on the way and…." Kurt trailed off, making a tragic face. The nurse raised her eyebrows at him. "Oh, come on, Rita. You let Will Schuester stay with my dad before we got here. Can't you bend the rules for Rachel Berry, Broadway star?"

"Rachel Berry? As in _Earthworks_?"

"Yes, yes," Rachel said. A Broadway fan! Rachel couldn't help but preen. "Did you see me in it?"

"Hmmm," the nurse responded without enthusiasm. Rachel felt a surge of disappointment. The wrong place and so the wrong time to worry about her ego, yet it still hurt like a hard pinch. She bowed her eyes. After the longest, most uncomfortable pause during which Rachel felt herself being scrutinised, the nurse relented. "All right, she can go in but not for long."

"Thank you, Rita." Kurt planted a kiss on her cheek. "I'm just going to take her in, okay."

"Don't push your luck, Mr. Hummel."

"Okay." Kurt turned to Rachel. "Hang on." Kurt went back into the room.

The nurse waited for the door to close before addressing Rachel quietly. "You know, if you can persuade Burt to go home too and get some proper sleep, I might just bend the rules again." She left Rachel staring after her and disappeared behind one of the other doors.

The door to Carole's room opened and Burt Hummel stepped out.

"Rachel. It's been a long time."

"Hello Mr. Hum-, Burt. I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, we all are. Don't just stand there. Come give this old man a hug." Burt held out his arms and Rachel obliged. "Kurt said you wanted to sit with Carole for a while. Go on in. I'll be there in a second."

Rachel nodded. Kurt was standing at the door and she squeezed his hand as she passed him to enter the room. Kurt closed the door behind her, leaving her alone with Carole. Rachel stood at the end of the bed, not sure what she was supposed to do. Looking at Carole, despite all the bandages and tubes, she looked peaceful, truly like she was sleeping and enjoying pleasant dreams. Her face was smooth, albeit bruised. There was a chair close on one side of the bed, next to Carole's left hand. Rachel realised that she didn't need to know what to do. Acting on instinct, she moved to the right side of the bed and kissed Carole's forehead gently. "Hey, Carole," she softly. "You were right about me and wrong too, just like I've been right and wrong about so many things. But one thing we've both always known. I love your son and that will never change." Rachel cupped Carole's right hand in her own but jumped and dropped it on hearing a tiny cough. Burt was standing with his back against the closed door.

"You can hold her hand, Rachel. It's okay." Burt stepped further into the room. "There's a chair in the corner. Do you want me to pull it up?"

"No, I'll do it if I need it. I'm so short and the bed's so tall that this is perfect height for me anyway."

Burt gave a little smile. "Okay." He took the chair on the other side of the bed, taking Carole's left hand and stroking it.

"Do you think she can hear us?"

"I like to think so. The doctors say it's possible. We've all talked to her until we're hoarse. I wanted to bring in a radio or something but they say it's not allowed. We'll have to wait for her to be moved out of ICU."

Rachel had a thought. She almost rejected it as absurd but as she stared down at Carole, it wouldn't go away. "I know this is really cheesy and probably completely inappropriate but-but maybe I could sing to her. She loved music and maybe it would help."

Burt shrugged. "It might. I'm up for trying anything at this point."

"What's her favourite song?"

"She's a bit of a rocker which I know isn't your thing but lately, you know what she's been listening to a lot? That disc Will Schuester burned for us long ago, before Finn went into the army." Rachel frowned, not understanding. "Of New Directions. Will had a lot of recordings of you guys; practice for all the competition pieces, a few others. He did a compilation for us, ones with Kurt and Finn in them. And you."

"Oh, wow. I had no idea."

"Carole had it in the car. She made me put in an old CD player just to hear it. Will offered to redo it in another format, but she loved that actual CD. It was always on whenever she drove anywhere." He chuckled. "I'd ask her for rides just so I could hear them occasionally too." He shook his head sadly. "It's gone now, in the wreck. Mangled, like everything else." He stared down at his wife. Rachel forced herself not to look away even though she felt her own tears welling. She watched and reached into her memory. The words weren't all right for Burt and Carole but a lot of them were and they were as right as they were at the time they were written for her and Finn. Well, for her anyway. She started to sing softly.

_Face to face and heart to heart  
We're so close yet so far apart  
I close my eyes, I look away  
That's just because I'm not okay  
But I hold on, I stay strong  
Wondering if we still belong  
_  
Rachel's voice, a little tremulous at first, got stronger and stronger as she relived the song she'd sung with Finn at New York Nationals. By the time she finished "Pretending," tears were streaming down her face, pooling under her chin and dripping onto Carole's still hand.

"That was beautiful, Rachel." Burt was wiping away a tear of his own.

"Finn wrote that."

"I know. It's a wonderful song."

"It is." They were both startled by the voice and turned their heads to the door. Nurse Radnor was standing there, observing. "And even though I'm sure the other patients would have enjoyed it if they weren't so ill, I need to ask that you try and keep the volume down." With that, the nurse turned and shut the door behind her.

Burt broke the silence that followed. "Shame Finn never believed in it."

Rachel stared at Burt quizzically.

"He always got embarrassed when we played it. Said it wasn't good enough for Nationals and lost you the championship." Burt held up his hand on seeing Rachel ready to interject. "I know, I know. But that's Finn all over. You wrote the song that got you to Nationals. He wrote the one that lost you Nationals. The sad thing is, he's never tried to write one since and we both thought he showed real talent for it."

Rachel didn't know what to say. She realized that Finn had never shared with her his feelings that New York was his solely his fault or that the song wasn't good enough. She'd always just assumed that he accepted that they had equal responsibility for blowing it with the kiss. More and more as she came into his world again, she was seeing just how little they really communicated when they were teenagers; at least before Finn put her on that train. That was real.

A longer silence ensued. "Well, at least Nurse Ratched didn't throw me out," Rachel said to break it. "She told me not to stay long."

"She must be starting to like you. And I think she has a crush on Finn."

"Who doesn't?"

Burt regarded her carefully. "Why are you here, Rachel? I mean, in Lima."

It was a fair question. The answer was difficult. She knew what she wanted now but should she be telling Burt before she told Finn? "I wanted to help if I could," she said simply. "You and Kurt and-and Finn." She rushed on. "I can cook and clean and do what Blaine was doing until Carole's sister gets here at least, and beyond if you like. And I can bully you."

Burt stared at her quizzically.

"Burt, I can only imagine how hard and horrible this is for you but you all are so tired. You need to take care of yourselves and _you_ need to take care of your sons. What's Carole going to say when she wakes up and you're all physical and mental wrecks? She'll be so mad!"

"You're not pulling any punches," Burt said drily.

"They wouldn't tell you this themselves but they're worried about you on top of having to cope with what's happened to Carole. They need some reassurance and you're the only one who can give it. Go home. Get a good night's sleep and make sure they do too. I've restocked the kitchen so have a big breakfast with them and talk. You know I'm right."

"You don't understand, Rachel. When she wakes up, she needs to see someone who loves her."

"And she will. Even if it's not you or Kurt or Finn, it'll be somebody like me." Her voice softened. "Go home, Burt. Take a break. I'll stay tonight. My dads are overseas and there's nothing for me but an empty house. Go home. Rest. Please. For Carole and for your sons."

Burt opened his mouth to argue and then closed it again after seeing no sign on her face that she intended to relent. He checked his pockets. "I can't go home. Finn's got the car."

Rachel took the keys for the Range Rover and threw them at Burt. "Take my dad's car, the green Range Rover. Lot F4; just point in the general vicinity and press. It'll light up like a Christmas tree. Go."

Burt nodded reluctantly and headed for the door. He paused at the door and looked back. "Be careful with Finn's heart, Rachel. Besides his father, you're the only one who's ever been able to break it."

+...+

Rachel alternated between singing soft songs to Carole and taking fitful naps on the uncomfortable chair that Burt had claimed as his own. When she wasn't doing either, she talked. She told Carole about her life in New York and California, about _Drumm_, about how she'd come to realise that it all meant so little without Finn.

"Burt said Finn's dad and I are the only ones who broke his heart. He's sort of wrong on both counts, you know. Sorry, Carole, but I don't think his dad broke his heart, I think you did by lying to him for so long. If you were awake, I think you'd agree with me. As for me, there was a time I could break his heart, but now…? I so wish you would wake up. You'd know. You could tell me if this is a fool's journey after what I did to him."

It was much later, after the intrusion of a ridiculously young-looking, pretty nurse checking on Carole, that Rachel told the unconscious woman about the abortion, fighting through tears to get it out. Between the nurse hovering and her own emotions, it was a while after that before Rachel could focus and when she could, she sang.

_What have I done?  
I wish I could run,  
Away from this ship going under  
Just trying to help  
Hurt everyone else  
Now I feel the weight of the world is on my shoulders_

_What can you do when your good isn't good enough_  
_And all that you touch tumbles down?_  
_Cause my best intentions_  
_Keep making a mess of things,_  
_I just wanna fix it somehow_  
_But how many times will it take?_  
_Oh, how many times will it take for me to get it-_

"Excuse me. Who are you and what are you doing?"

It was an indignant male voice this time. Another officious nurse was standing at the door, staring down at her. A voice behind him said, "She's singing a song she wrote. It's okay, Brad. That's Rachel."

"Mr. Hudson, you know the rule - family members only."

"She is family," Finn said. "Brad, meet my fiancée."

**Drumm: Chapter Twenty-Five **

_"Fiancée?"_

_"A wife can't testify against her husband."_

_For such a smart crook, Sallis was woefully ill-informed in other ways. Elsa knew spousal privilege didn't include events before marriage and more, she knew that just the previous year, the law had changed to allow wives to testify against their defendant husbands if they wanted to. Now was definitely not the time to tutor Sallis on the law. _

_"How could I resist such a wonderfully romantic proposal?" Even playing along with his ignorance, Elsa was finding it impossible to disguise the sarcasm._

_"It's not a proposal, princess," Sallis said. "It's a lifeboat."_

_"Marriage or death, is that what you're saying?"_

_"I'm not saying anything," he said, dangerously quiet. "I'm waiting for you to tell me why there was a fucking cop in my fucking apartment."_

_"Baby, you know I stay out of your business. I couldn't tell her anything that would hurt you." He wasn't appeased and Elsa shrugged. "As for the cop, I've got no idea, Wilson. She turned up with questions about a guy I used to know. I've told you what she asked and what I said."_

_"So, how did you know this Jason Montana?"_

_Elsa was on dangerous ground but she'd known since the cop arrived that this was going to be difficult. She'd spun Sallis a tale about her family. She thought furiously about how to layer Jason in without destroying the image she's created. "After my parents died and I went to live with my aunt and uncle in Massachusetts, I took part in a local talent contest. Jason was at MIT but his girlfriend was from Cambridge and she was also a contestant. He liked my voice and got talking to my aunt and uncle about my future. I think Jason wasn't sure he wanted a career in science and he loved music. I don't know; he took an interest in me." She glanced up at Sallis through her lashes. He was sneering. "Not like that. I was a kid. He and his girlfriend kind of adopted me for a while and liked hearing me sing to them. They would take me out sometimes, to amusement parks or the movies. Then they broke up, Jason graduated and that's the last I saw of him until he walked into the Pink Leopard one night." _

_It was more complicated than she would have liked but keeping it simple would have sailed too close to the truth. Jason going to MIT, the only thing he could really verify, was the truth. The rest was nonsense but he'd never be able to check up on it. At least, she hoped not._

_"And?"_

_"And nothing. The first time I saw him at the club, he said he didn't like that I was working there. Yesterday, somebody let him in when I was rehearsing. He repeated his opinion forcefully and I told him to mind his own business. That's all."_

_"But that's not all, is it, princess? The cops knew to come to you. How did that happen?"_

_"I don't know, Wilson. It's not like I called them. I didn't know he was dead until that cop told me." Elsa's own opinion was that Drumm was involved but she couldn't say that, not least because she wouldn't give much for her or Drumm's chances if she did. "Besides," she added, bracing herself for the physical response that often followed her prying into his business, "why are you so worked up about it? They came to see me, not you."_

_Elsa watched his face a while before relaxing. He wasn't going to hit her again. He had other things going on, she was sure. She was a just a minor irritation. Sallis ignored her and rose with a dismissive, "Don't talk to the cops again," and left the room. Elsa let out her breath slowly._

+...+

_There were snatches of light, blurry figures and the feeling of a needle in his arm. Drumm was conscious of them only briefly before descending back into a whirling darkness of euphoria and fear. He knew the euphoria was false though enticing. It was going to kill him as it nearly had before but there was sweetness there, a place where he could let go and be lost. He tried to concentrate on the fear instead but that reduced him to tears and regrets. Theo, life, his relapse into addiction, Elsa. Her face more than any other kept floating in front of his eyes. She was enticing euphoria too. She didn't belong in the realm of fear except she did. Nothing scared him more than the strength of his feelings for her. Nothing scared him more than the probability that she would destroy him. He clawed his way back out of fear, taking respite in euphoria again. There, at least, she was a comforting presence._

+...+

_"Elizabeth, we're not stalling. We don't know where he is. Mitch and Alyssa are out looking for him plus I'm using every contact I have to try and find him." Sid was doing his best not to fidget in Theo's chair. Elizabeth Mortimer was spearing him with her glare. He bore it only slightly better than he was bearing losing the kid and that was not at all._

_"Sid, I'm going to be very unhappy if I find you've withheld important information about this."_

_Sid held up his hands. "What do you want from me, Lizzie? I've told you Sally Strong's story but I can't put you in touch with her because Drumm's the one with the address. I've told you the story Sophie Canton told Drumm and about her wanting us to find Montana. I've given what background we have on Montana which, quite frankly, isn't much and you're in a better position to investigate. What more can I do?"_

_"I am finding Drumm's disappearance mighty convenient, Sid." _

_"You don't seriously think Drumm's involved, do you?"_

_Elizabeth sighed. "No, Drumm's no killer but he seems to have a bad habit of getting in the middle of things and causing chaos around him. I just need to get all this from him. Right now it's all third-hand and nothing I can take to a judge."_

_"So, the evidence is…"_

_"Not there. We have the janitor from the Pink Leopard who witnessed the argument between Miss Cannotti and the victim. Her story matched the janitor's plus witnesses have her in the club until she left with Sallis. If Drumm did see Montana's body being put into Sallis's car, she's in the clear. We have a bum who saw the body being dumped but he's unreliable. He's changed the license plate number he claims he saw three times so far although his description of the car matches the one Drumm probably saw. We've searched Montana's apartment and found nothing, including that research he's supposed to have. By all signs, he hasn't had a job since he since he left Cantor Corp; a legitimate one, anyway." She sighed again. "I don't need another unsolved on my record, Sid. Thurlow's aching for a reason to bust me back down to beat cop just because I won't shut up about Theo."_

_"I'm sorry. Until we find the kid…."_

_"How long has it been?"_

_"Two days. Forty-eight hours in," Sid said, checking his watch, "six hours. Last we saw of him, he was heading out to tell Sophie Cantor about Montana. She says he never turned up. Mitch got into the company and checked their logs; no record of him turning up there. No sightings at her apartment."_

_"When you report him missing, that's probably the first person they'll want to talk to. I've got nothing, but there's no harm me getting in first, I suppose. I'll drop in on her, see if I can get anything."_

_"Thanks, Elizabeth. I know he can be a pain in the ass, but I'm really worried about him." _

+...+

_Elsa was off her leash. Tony was still a no-show and Sallis was so wrapped up in his own business he forgot to set any guards on her. The big, round goon never left his side now. As Elsa let the hairdresser ease her down onto the neck rest on the sink, she considered what she might do with her freedom. By the time she was done, she knew._

_Tipping generously with Sallis's money, Elsa left the salon. Elsa still had Theo's card and she gazed at it, noting the address. She knew she ought to call instead but thought she needed to see him face to face. Then there was a chance she could judge his answers, find out what he'd told the cops and what he was doing. Over the phone, it would be easier for him to fool her._

_She set off at a sharp trot._

+...+

_"I'm sorry, Detective, I don't really have anything more to add to what I told Mr. Drummond's colleague. I haven't seen Mr. Drummond since last week."_

_"I understand," Elizabeth said, "but I'm really here to talk about Jason Montana."_

_"I see. I can confirm that I asked Mr. Drummond, both Mr. Drummonds in fact, to find Jason. He was my fiancé and I wanted to make sure he was all right."_

_"Why wouldn't he be?"_

_"We parted on bad terms but I bore him no ill will. I just wanted to make sure he was okay, that's all."_

_"What about this research you claimed he took from the company?"_

_Elizabeth was pleased to note the slight narrowing of Sophie Cantor's eyes. It was the first sign she'd seen that anything could crack the hard nut exterior of this calm and self-possessed woman._

_"I was led to believe my discussions with Mr. Drummond were to be kept strictly confidential, detective."_

_"People rarely keep things confidential in a murder inquiry, Miss Cantor, unless they have something to hide. Do you have something to hide?"_

_"I have a company to help run, detective, and my time is limited. I will say that yes, there was some research into immunodeficiency and if you find it, please note that it belongs to Cantor Corp. Have you found it?"_

_"No, Miss Cantor. I have not. What should I be looking for?"_

_"Notes, graphs, statistics, patient records, chemical formulae; things like that. It's highly valuable and I wouldn't want it to go astray. In fact, if that were to happen, you can be assured that the company would be looking for significant compensation."_

_"I'll keep my eye out," Elizabeth said dryly. "Okay, so, tell me about the association between Cantor Corp and the Pink Leopard night club."_

_That definitely got a response. The ice princess was not happy. "There is no connection, detective," Sophie said sharply. "And now, if you'll excuse me, we're in the middle of a public floatation and I am needed elsewhere. Good day."_

+...+

_Elsa found the office and paused. She glanced around, trying to see if anyone had taken an interest in her. During the walk, it suddenly occurred to her that maybe Sallis hadn't given her freedom, but rope. She'd nearly turned back, realising that calling would be safer; safer but less effective. The rest of the journey she kept darting glances behind her. As far as she could tell, she was not being followed. Taking a last look around and a deep breath, she went through the door of the Drummond Investigations._

_In front of her was a short hallway leading to a door at the end. Halfway down the hall was a bench against the wall on the right, opposite open double doors. Elsa could hear voices. She stepped forward but paused as she began to make out words._

_"In two hours, we can file a missing person's report." It was a gravelly voice. Elsa reckoned it was someone old._

_"Which will do no good. Thurlow will see to that. He gave Lisa that report to use to take this place away from us. He'd be happy if Drumm's never found." Another man, younger, she thought briefly before the words hit her. Drumm had disappeared?_

_Elsa felt her stomach drop to her toes. Her eyes started to water. In her world, there was only one reason people disappeared. Sallis. But how? How could he know about Drumm beyond Drumm's first bumbling into the club after Theo's death? Had Elsa said or done something to betray Drumm? Oh, God! First Jason and now Drumm?_

_"Have either of you considered that Drumm may have gone back to his old habits?" New voice, female, familiar._

_"You don't believe that, Alyssa, do you?" The younger man again._

_"No," the woman called Alyssa, who wasn't Alyssa to Elsa, said slowly, "but you can bet for damn sure that's what will come back from the cops."_

_Elsa stepped firmly into the office and regarded the three occupants, staring openly at her. She turned to the woman. _

_"Hello, Pepper."_

* * *

Song credits: "Pretending" written by Adam Anders, Peer Åström and Shelly Peiken

"Get It Right" written by Adam Anders, Nikki Hassman and Peer Åström

**To those taking the time to review, thank you****.**


	26. The Lady Is a Tramp

**The **_**Glee**_** characters belong to **_**Glee**_**, the rest of the characters belong to me. This story is improved no end by wood-u-like-2-no's contribution as beta and soundboard. **

**Conceit: Chapter titles are song titles. Frank Sinatra popularized this classic.**

**+...+**

**Chapter Twenty-Six: The Lady Is a Tramp**

"Fiancée? Are you insane?" Rachel was on her feet, urgently whispering while casting worried glances towards the door behind which the only slightly mollified Brad had disappeared. "You've already been papped here. What's to stop him running off to tell the press we've gotten engaged over your mother's dea-"

She stopped, horrified at what she nearly said. Death bed. Dead body. She wasn't even sure which she was about to spit out. Either was premature and an insensitive thing to say. Worse, it was gross to be worried about publicity given the circumstances, even if she wasn't wrong. An engagement now was something the celebrity gossips could twist negatively against either or both of them. The press had been quiet lately, except for the picture of Finn, but it was only because they were caught up in a royal scandal plus the latest Kardashian divorce and Taylor Swift's alleged part in it. Rachel sank back down onto the chair. At the back of all of it was the thrill that had run down her spine at Finn's declaration. So, _so_ wrong time, wrong place. She braced herself for the well-deserved recriminations bound to come from Finn for caring about something so completely meaningless to him right now.

Finn didn't react at all. He walked over to the other side of Carole's bed and kissed his mother's forehead gently. He grabbed the second chair from the corner and placed it next to the bed. Taking his seat and his mother's right hand, he finally looked up at Rachel. "Brad's cool. He won't say anything. He's just a real stickler for the rules. He'd have thrown you out. Kurt and Dad said you wanted to stay so…." He shrugged. "It seemed the easiest way."

"Oh. Right. That makes sense. Sorry."

"For what?"

"For talking about something that's so ridiculously unimportant right now."

"Hey," he said, stretching his arm gently across his mother's prone form to lay a hand on Rachel's, "that's why you're here, right? To help with the stuff we're not dealing with? Beat some sense into us when we need it? Thank you for getting Dad to come home. I don't know how you did it but I'm impressed."

"I bullied him," Rachel said, letting a small smile play on her face, "and reminded him of his parental responsibilities."

Finn withdrew his hand and nodded, returning his attention to his mother. Rachel sighed. Was it what she said or concern for his mother? If it was what she said, was it always going to be like this – any mention of children and he'd close down? Was it such a huge thing between them that there was no way past it? She checked her watch; it was approaching midnight.

"Finn, how long did you sleep? It can't have been that long. It wasn't eight hours or even seven. Why are you here?"

"I'm fine. I drove your car back. Here." He fished the keys to the Range Rover out of his pocket and passed them over to her. "You should go home, get some sleep yourself."

"I'm okay. It's kind of comforting being here. I've been talking to Carole, telling her about Broadway and _Drumm_ and… other stuff." Her resolution to be completely honest with no holds barred couldn't overcome the atrocious timing. Besides, on reflection, maybe telling Carole about the abortion should have been something she left for Finn. Of course, it probably didn't matter.

"I do that too," Finn said quietly. "Sometimes, I even forget she's asleep and get a shock when she doesn't laugh at the dumb things I do."

"Do you ever sing to her?"

Finn fidgeted. He didn't hold her gaze, dropping his eyes back to his mother. "No, I don't sing anymore. Saul keeps bugging me but I'm too rusty and I don't-I don't get much of a kick out it unless I'm behind the drums." He paused before adding, "Kurt does though."

"You should try, Finn. Burt told me that Carole loved listening to old recordings of New Directions with you on them. She might respond."

"I tried, once. But I kinda choked up and didn't try again. It sounded terrible."

"I could help you. We could sing together."

Finn finally gazed on her again. "That's really cool of you to offer, Rachel, but I don't think so. Look, you really should go home. You've been busting your ass for us all day and I know you well enough to know you'll be doing it all day tomorrow too. Go get some rest. I've got this."

Rachel sat in stillness for a heartbeat. She contemplated resisting him. The thought that maybe he just really didn't want her there threatened to rise but she stamped on it, refusing to believe it. Rachel wanted to stay but not at the cost of having to fight him for it. He didn't need that. She'd never sleep though and she had nothing else to do. A light bulb went off in her head. There was something.

Rachel nodded and stood. "Okay, Finn. I'll see you tomorrow. Thank you for letting me in for a while."

Finn nodded and looked back down at Carole. Rachel slipped out of the room.

+...+

"What the hell?"

"Don't answer it!"

"Where's the baseball bat?"

"In the closet. I had to put it up on the shelf to stop Jake using it to pat Buster." Buster was the neighbour's dog.

The blackness of the room was speared as a light from a small bedside table lamp shone out. Will Schuester, dressed in pyjama bottoms, grabbed the shirt he'd discarded onto the bedroom chair and made for the closet door. They'd been whispering head to head. Separated, they were forced to raise their voices to be heard above the banging on the door.

"Emma, you check on the kids," Will said, grabbing the baseball bat from the shelf. "I'll go find out what's going on."

"Be careful, Will," his wife said, her face pale. "The nights bring strange people. Dirty ones, too."

Will gave Emma his bravest grin. "I'll be fine. Stay upstairs, yeah?"

Emma nodded as she grabbed her robe.

Will left the room and hurriedly as quietly as he could downstairs. It was ridiculous, he realized, as he was doing it. The noise would have woken the children but it was so ingrained, he did it anyway. He reached the bottom of the stairs and started to be able to make out a voice.

"Mr. Schue! Mr. Schue!"

It was a woman's voice and oddly familiar. Will dropped his arm and, concealing the bat behind him, he unlocked and opened the front door.

"Rachel? What on earth-"

"Mr. Schue, I'm so, so sorry to come so late, to do this now, but I desperately need your help."

"I-I…" Will was too flabbergasted to function for a moment. He hadn't seen Rachel Berry for at least ten years. He'd kept up with her career but she hadn't made an appearance in Lima, or at least to him, since his and Emma's wedding. He knew she was working with Finn and he'd intended, once things were clearer with Carole, to ask him about her. Now, here she was, dishevelled and looking like a banshee of the night. "Rachel, it's amazing to see you but…" A reason for her being there suddenly occurred to him and his heart sank like a stone to the pit of his stomach. "Oh, no. It's not Carole, is it?"

"Yes," she said excitedly. His stricken face must have alerted her to what he was thinking because she suddenly started shaking her head vigorously. "No, no, not that. Oh, God, I'm sorry. No, Carole's still in a coma. But Carole is the reason I'm here. And you're the only one who can help me."

"It's great to see you but do you know what time it is?"

"Please, Mr. Schue! I know, I know, but it's really important, I swear! I need your New Directions recordings and I need them now!"

Will heard Emma come down the stairs. He glanced back. His wife was rocking their youngest son gently in her arms, soothing him. Will called out to her. "It's okay, Emma. We have an unexpected visitor. It's Rachel Berry." Will gestured silently to Emma that he still had little idea what was going on before turning back to the wild woman at the door. Rachel was almost quivering with excitement. Suspecting that he wouldn't be enjoying the company of Mr. Sandman any more this night, Will sighed ruefully and opened the door wide. "You'd better come in. I hope you're not allergic to dust."

+...+

Rachel yawned. The coffee shop opened at 6am. She'd get Finn a large latte, the way he used to like his coffees and deliver it with the gift. It took her and Will two hours to dig up the old recordings. Will had offered to help her transfer them but she'd told him she could do it at home and to return his uprooted household to order.

At the Berry house, Rachel went straight to the basement. Amongst the many things her fathers had documented about their daughter's life were old tapes and videos of her performing and practicing. Some of the old equipment was still there, including the machine that moved everything to digital early in the century. Rachel didn't know exactly what Will had done for Carole years ago – Will couldn't remember and although Burt probably would, she didn't want to disturb him – so she had to use her own judgement. Her guide was to keep the focus on Finn's vocals. For four hours, she toiled, creating a new collection on disc and on digital, for Carole. If Finn couldn't sing for her now, the Finn of old could.

Stifling another yawn, Rachel jumped out of the beast at the first sign of movement at the shop. She was at the door when the close sign turned to open and within twenty minutes, she was at the door to Carole's hospital room. Brad was still on duty and nodded curtly at her and the coffee. Rachel smirked. Brad obviously lacked the imagination to check into the engagement story.

Finn had moved to Carole's left side, to Burt's chair, and was dozing. Rachel crept in quietly, hesitant about waking him. She set the coffee on the windowsill and returned to the door. She waited until she saw Brad enter one of the other rooms. He was a stickler for rules; he'd no doubt disapprove but what she had planned wouldn't disturb any of the other patients. Taking the headphones from her bag, her old, super soft ones, she approached Carole from the right. She gently placed them at Carole's ears. Attached was one of Rachel's old mobile phones on which she'd uploaded the new collection. She switched the phone on and pushed the play button for the music. She'd already tested the volume herself and knew it was turned down low. Rachel stood over Carole a few seconds, making sure there was no leakage of sound. Satisfied, she grabbed the coffee and took the seat on Carole's right. Wrapping her hands around the cup for warmth, she turned her attention to Finn.

Something in her stare must have alerted him because within seconds, he opened his eyes. They widened on seeing her. She smiled at him and held out the coffee. Finn stretched a little in his chair and reached out to take it.

"Thanks." Finn removed the cover and drained the now lukewarm liquid in one before handing the cup back to her. "I must have dozed off." He looked up at his mother. "What the hell?"

"Finn, I remade the collection, the one she loved, the one that was damaged in the accident. I went over to Mr. Schuester's, got the recordings, and made another disc or one like it anyway. You're on there. I also put a digital copy on that old phone. Your mom can hear you sing now. She's listening to you."

Finn stared back and forth between Rachel and the headphones. He shook his head. "I know you mean well, Rachel, but we're not allowed to have stuff like this in here."

"It's on really low. It won't disturb anyone!"

"That's not it, Rachel," he explained. "It's not about the noise. It's about the delicate equipment in here. There's a chance something like that can interfere with it. To be honest, I think they're a bit paranoid about it but Brad will blow a fuse if he finds it. Are you okay for me to take it off?"

Rachel was deeply disappointed but she nodded her head. She hadn't thought about electronics. She should have done. Of course, that was the reason. They'd let her sing to Carole and that was a lot louder than this was. She was morose as Finn gently removed the headphones. He handed them back to her.

"It was a good thought, though. You're being really ki-"

Any further words were drowned out by the sound of alarms. Rachel and Finn both looked around wildly. One of the machines hooked to Carole was flashing. They had no time to work out what was going on before Brad rushed in, followed quickly by another staff member who ushered them outside.

Finn stationed himself at the door, peering inside with wide, unblinking eyes. Rachel stood apart, appalled. Was this because she brought in the phone? Had she-

"Rachel. Rachel!"

Rachel shook herself out of her shock. Finn was talking to her.

"Rachel, I need you to get my dad and Kurt. Can you do that? Please."

Rachel nodded and raced out of the waiting room. She didn't stop until she reached the car and climbed in. In the short drive to the Hudson-Hummel home, it didn't once occur to her to call instead.

+...+

Rachel had washed all the breakfast dishes. She'd caught Burt and Kurt just as they finished eating and they'd left her in the house. In a daze, she went around the rooms again, collecting clothes and running the washing machine. After that, she stripped all the beds and remade them with fresh sheets. Smoothing down the cover on Finn's bed, she fought the instinct to crawl in. Rachel wanted to be downstairs to receive the news she was dreading. She hadn't killed Carole. She couldn't have. She wouldn't let herself believe it. It was too huge. It had to be something else. Had to be.

Rachel was exhausted. When she finally ran out of anything else she could do, she sat on the sofa and sobbed.

+...+

It was dark when she woke up. For a moment, she didn't know where she was. Then it all came back and she caught her breath. She could still hear breathing. There was someone else here, in the house. Rachel froze and tried to force her eyes to use what light there was to discern her surroundings. That's when she saw the figure in the hall, leaning against the door frame, his back to her. Then she saw the tall shape crumple as the man sank down and started to weep.

Rachel leapt off the couch, sprinted to the fallen form and threw herself on the floor to take Finn into her arms.

**Drumm: Chapter Twenty-Six **

_"Hello, Elsa." _

_The woman was cool, very cool. There was nothing on her face to show she'd been caught out in a lie. Elsa admired that. She took in the other occupants of the large, three-desk room. They were both men, one old and one young. The young one's mouth was hanging open. Good. Elsa had become an expert at working with that. The older man, though, she sensed he was immune to her charms. Distrust and something akin to loathing oozed out of every pore._

_"You all know who I am," Elsa began._

_"Do we?" The old man's interjection was sharp._

_Elsa nodded slowly. They knew more than she was comfortable them knowing but she shouldn't be too surprised. She'd made a terrible mistake getting involved with Drumm. She stupid to let her heart, no, her loins corrupt her judgement. This was the price and she had to pay it. "Well," she said, "you know the name I'm using today. I don't have the same advantage." She was pleased to see the glimmer of surprise at her admission in the old man's eyes._

_"Elsa, the fool doing the bad impression of a guppy is Mitch Ridgeley. The unfriendly one is Sid DuBois. He's the boss."_

_"And you're Alyssa."_

_"That's the name I was born with, yes. Alyssa Woodruff. Why are you here?"_

_Elsa hesitated. The truth was she wasn't sure anymore. She'd come to confront Drumm, not to be confronted. The news that Drumm had disappeared had shaken her more than she could ever have guessed. "I came to see Drumm but from what I heard as I came in, that isn't possible. He's missing?"_

_No one responded. Sid, the old man, walked behind her and out into the hall. She heard the lock turn on the front door. Elsa's flight instinct set her on the balls of her feet and she watched him carefully as he returned._

_"Oh, don't worry, Miss Canotti. I'm not threatening you. I'm just making sure we have no more unwelcome visitors while we… chat. Mitch, get the lady a chair, please."_

_Elsa winched a little inside as the twist Sid gave the word "lady" and concentrated instead on watching Mitch as he shook off the paralysis that had gripped him. He grabbed a wooden chair from its place against the wall and set it in the middle of the room. Nothing like being centre stage Elsa thought ruefully as she shrugged and sank onto the chair. Alyssa and Mitch took the seats at their desks. Sid brought the last desk chair into the middle near to hers. She could see his hands, bent and gnarled. He couldn't lift it, he had to push it and it screeched across the floorboards. The others showed no sign of getting up to help him and Elsa suspected it was because they knew from experience he'd rip off their hides if they did. This was one fierce and proud man. Elsa steeled herself._

_"Drumm hasn't been seen since around 6pm, the day before yesterday. Would you know anything about that?"_

_"No, I'm sorry, Mr. DuBois, I don't."_

_"You haven't seen him?"_

_"No. Not for a couple of days, not since he and Sallis talked at the café near the Pink Leopard."_

_"What about your boyfriend?" There was a tiny, crazy portion of her brain that was revelling in the hilarity of that which was not hilarious. It was there that she noted that expression "curled lips" must have been created just for him._

_"I don't know what he's been doing. I haven't seen much of him since then either," she said. Her lack of complete control became apparent to her when she realized she had loosely enfolded her other hand around her damaged wrist. She dropped her hand, but not soon enough to avoid Sid's eye. He didn't use it._

_"Why did you want to see Drumm?"_

_The truth was always the first port of call, so long as it didn't conflict with her goal. Elsa had never doubted Drumm's goal, just his sanity. These people weren't looking to protect Sallis or sell her out to him; they were looking for Theo's killer. "I had a visit from a police detective. I couldn't imagine what led the detective to me, apart from Drumm. I came to find out what he'd said to them." She hesitated before adding, "And ask why." _

_She'd surprised him again and he surprised her. He recognised truth when he heard it. That was good to know. She pressed what was perhaps an advantage. "Mr. DuBois, if I had anything to do with Drumm's disappearance, what possible reason would I have for coming here?" _

_"I don't know Miss Canotti. I don't know a lot of things when it comes to you and that's a problem. Right now, it's a problem I don't care about." Sid levered himself out of the chair and started to push it back towards the desk. _

_"Do you care about Drumm, Elsa?" _

_Alyssa's question was out of the blue but Elsa was prepared to play it cool and blasé. Displaying her actual feelings was unnecessary, if she even knew what they were. "The man's an overgrown delinquent but I wouldn't want anything to happen to him, if that's what you mean." Out of the corner of her eye, Elsa could have sworn she saw Sid nod, although whether in agreement at the accuracy of the description of Drumm or an assessment of her honesty, she didn't know._

_"If you care about him," Alyssa said, "you'll tell us anything you can that will help us. I know you have your own deal going with Sallis and right now, I really don't care what that is so long as it's unconnected with Theo and Drumm." Alyssa got up and glided over to Elsa. She crouched down next to Elsa's chair, putting her face close. "Is it unconnected?"_

_Elsa refused to be intimidated and took her time before responding. Trusting these people was as stupid as trusting Drumm but she'd already taken that first step. To save Drumm's life, maybe it was time for another. Elsa stared steadily into Alyssa's eyes. "Sallis is the devil incarnate. He is capable of anything and that's something I know for a fact but I need something from him and until I get it, I won't jeopardize my place at his party. Understand that. Respect that." There was no visible reaction from Alyssa or the rest of her audience but at least the gazes weren't as challenging. Alyssa unfolded and returned to her desk._

_Elsa continued. "I've seen and heard things, at the Pink Leopard and at his apartment, that could put him away but over the last few days? He's been closed off ever since the confrontation with Drumm, maybe even a bit before that. I've heard him say nothing about Drumm. I know he's not happy. If he k-killed Drumm, I think he'd be happier and I think he'd be boasting, particularly to me. That's all I have. The only other thing…." She trailed off and took a deep breath. "The only other thing I can suggest is that you find Tony."_

_"Tony!" Aylssa was startled._

_"I haven't seen him since the night before last. Maybe it's a coincidence, maybe it's not. Tony," she said, holding up her wrist, "took me to hospital that night, against Sallis's instructions. I've been assuming, well, that Tony's toast but maybe he's just been put on another job, something to do with Drumm." The private detectives were studying her sceptically. "Hey, this is just my speculation. I'm not looking to send you up blind alleys but maybe it's worth checking out."_

_"Tell us about Jason Montana." That Mitch had a voice was more of a surprise than the way this team kept trying to unsettle her with the range of questions._

_"Jason was a family friend of my past life. I… he saw me at the Pink Leopard and didn't like me working there." That was both true and consistent with what she'd told the detective._

_"If I turn up for my shift tonight, are you going to rat me out?" _

_Elsa turned her body to face the woman she first knew as Pepper. "No, but I'll be honest. If you do anything there that interferes with me, I'll have to rethink that choice."_

_The two women stared hard at each other before simultaneously nodding. Elsa rose._

_"I have to go, I don't get a lot of time on my own and this was already dangerous. I've given you all I can."_

_Elsa could see that Sid was hesitating about letting her leave. She watched him turn to Mitch and Alyssa before he turned back to her. _

_"All right, Miss Canotti. Thank you for your help." The tone was somewhere between understanding and sarcasm. Sid walked out to the hall to the door. _

_"I hope Drumm's not… I hope you find him."_

+...+

_Drumm thought he was dead. God and the devil were fighting over his soul, stretching him so thin that the stars shone through him. A hand in heaven, a foot in hell, the rest spanning a godless, demonless eternity. Heaven had to be the better option. He tried to push his hand higher._

_"Drumm."_

_Angels sang his name. If he could just reach some sort of purchase, maybe he could pull himself up._

_"Drumm!"_

_Something was rushing through him like a deluge of crystal clear water. Shapes in front of his eyes took form, lines sharpened, colours unmerged. Not angels. One angel with golden hair and blue eyes fixed on him. A small hand beside his cheek. A slap._

_"Ow!" He intended that at least but his throat was so parched, his lips so cracked, and his tongue so glued to the roof of his mouth that what came out was, to his own ears under the ringing, "Umfph."_

_The hand slid around to the back of his head, lifting it a little. Something hard was pressed to his swollen lips and something else thick, cool and liquid entered his throat. He let the liquid swill in his mouth, rehydrating the skin, before swallowing. It was painful._

_"Sleep, Drumm."_

_True, blessed, blank unconsciousness took him somewhere new._

+...+

_Drumm woke up. Eyes still closed, he tried to count his brain cells. All three were still there. He chuckled to himself at his attempt at wit. Then he remembered the last thing he remembered. He was dying. Overdosing. Heroin. Shit!_

_Drumm's eyes flew open. The light was dim and it didn't take long for his eyes to adjust. He was on a bed in a small room with achingly white walls. There were no windows and only one door. The fluorescent light above flickered and emitted a faint buzz. _

_He raised his head and looked down at his body. Everything seemed to be in place. Out of place was the needle in his hand, the tube coming from it and the restraints that attached him by the wrists to the metal framework of his bed. He tested the restraints. They were effective and he couldn't move his arms. His feet were free but that wasn't a lot of help. He tried to bend forward to pull the needle out with his teeth but felt a strap he couldn't see under the covers, across his chest._

_Sophie. Sophie did this. She fed him the junk he'd spent years kicking and sent him on an all-time high. He should be dead._

_"Sophie!" He screamed at the top of his lungs. The voice was unused, rough and strained but nonetheless loud. A heartbeat later, "SOPHIE CANTOR!" _

_Ten minutes passed before the door opened. Sophie was elegantly dressed, looking every inch the pharmaceutical company stooge. Drumm was kidding himself. He knew who the stooge in the room was._

_"Hello, Drumm."_

_"Hello? Fucking hello? I'm going to kill you, Sophie."_

_"You're angry. I understand. I'm sorry but this couldn't be avoided."_

_Drumm was dehydrated but he had enough spittle to splutter at the sheer audacity of her response. He struggled futilely against the bonds before resting his head back on the pillow. As Sophie approached the bed, he stared up at her, praying the heat of his rage would turn his eyes to laser beams. He cursed when she wasn't bisected by his glare._

_"Drumm, I am going to release you soon."_

_"And if I don't kill you first, I'm going to have your ass in jail so fucking fast that your head will spin off."_

_"Please. Get your tantrum out of the way and then I'll tell you what you want to know and what you need to know. I'll wait."_

_Drumm wouldn't have thought it was possible to hate her more than he did right now. She proved him wrong again. He snapped his mouth shut and waited._

_"Good. My father died five days ago, just before the floatation of the company. I couldn't allow news of his death to leak out. It would have been the end. Your investigation into my father's connection to the Pink Leopard could have ruined everything and by that I mean the reputation of the company and the livelihoods of thousands of employees. I told you before, Drumm. The company comes first. Always. And now it's my responsibility. I needed you silenced until after the floatation and until after my father's death was announced. I didn't plan it. I had no idea of the connection until you came to see me that night. I had some drugs in my purse. I used them. It wasn't heroin. It was something from the company, although the effects appear to be very similar. It is my hope for your sake that it isn't addictive. I had you moved here and since then, you've been in a medically induced coma."_

_"You are out of your mind if you think I'm going to stay quiet." The words were seethed through clenched teeth._

_"I told you want you wanted to know. Here's what you need to know. You don't know where you are and you still won't once you're free. You've seen no one else you can identify. My staff are very loyal. If you go to the police, they will provide me with any alibi I need to refute your charges. You're an ex-addict, Drumm. I'm the newly bereaved daughter of a pillar of society and the CEO of a large corporation with a spotless history. You won't be believed."_

_Drumm wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of showing that he knew she was right. She was so calm and sure of herself, he desperately wanted to come up with something to shatter her wretched tranquillity. He came up empty of anything other that the silent oath to turn Sophie Cantor into his very own Christopher Thurlow._

_"Also, while you've been here, I've had my people do a little digging of their own. I'm aware of the lawsuit against you, Drumm. You don't need any more evidence to turn up that you've been using. The drug I gave you and will give you again before you are released is indistinguishable from heroin without special, very expensive testing. If you go to the police, I can guarantee you that the only possible conclusion that will be drawn of the last few days is that you spent it high as a kite. I liked Theo and I like you but I will tear down everything he had and everything you have if you try to hurt me or the company. Do we understand each other?"_

_Drumm stubbornly refused to speak. She stared down at him and then bent over and kissed him full on the lips, her tongue darting into his mouth. Behind the outrage, Drumm could feel the betraying tickle of desire. He hated her. He hated himself. He tried to spit. Nothing came._

_She straightened and spoke softly. "I think we understand each other now."_

* * *

**To those taking the time to review, thank you****.**


	27. Pillow Talk

**The **_**Glee**_** characters belong to **_**Glee**_**, the rest of the characters belong to me. This story is improved no end by wood-u-like-2-no's contribution as beta and soundboard. **

**Conceit: Chapter titles are song titles. Doris Day sang this to Rock Hudson in 1959. Ryan Murphy promised to sing it to us in "I Do." He lied.**

**+...+**

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Pillow Talk**

The week had taken toll on Finn's body and spirit. He walked in the door, tossed the keys of his brother's rented car on the hall table and leaned against the wall, throwing his head back.

He'd never been one for religion. A grilled cheese sandwich had sparked some interest once long ago. The toasted face of Christ nearly gave him faith in God as the genie in the lamp but as he wished for stupid things for himself, Burt when he was only Kurt's dad had a heart attack and Sam had gotten his arm broken. It had dampened Finn's enthusiasm for further exploration and he'd stopped thinking too much about it. The few times he thought about God at all it was to curse him – after he learned the truth about his real dad, after he forced Rachel to go to New York, after she told him about the abortion, looking down at the place where his mother's leg should be. And that was just the personal stuff.

Gazing at the ceiling, Finn willed it to disappear and stared at the stars beyond. He saw the long staircase to heaven. There was a girl once. She was around for about a month, one of his long-term relationships. She'd cajoled him watch _A Matter of Life and Death_ three times. The performances made repeated viewings enjoyable and instructive but now Finn couldn't shake off this image of heaven as a giant courtroom in the sky. In the hospital, Finn had frequently tried to imagine what he would say in a heavenly trial to restore his mother to him; that she'd had enough heartbreak losing a husband so young, that she'd spent most of her life sacrificing everything to raise her son, that even if she'd sinned by lying to him about his father, she'd done it with the best of intentions – to give Finn a good, strong man on whom to model himself as he grew, aspiring to the man his father had been when he lived and not the man he was when he died. It was such a small sin, a well-meaning sin, one he'd committed for much the same reasons – to spare someone he loved a truth that would hurt them.

"And Carole Hudson was guilty of the same hubris," the prosecutor of heaven charged, "placing herself in the position of the Almighty Divine. Who is she to dictate who is spared truth?" Finn knew it was a fair point. He'd known it really since he'd wrecked his relationship with Rachel the first time round by failing to confess when she did what really happened the night they'd both chosen to lose their virginity to others. Or was that the second time round? He had been too tired to work it out. All he knew was that it was a lesson he still refused to learn. He'd lie to save someone he loved from pain. He refused to believe it made him a wicked person and any god that told him otherwise was one he didn't want to know. It wasn't hubris. Finn had played Faustus in a theatre workshop once and knew what the word meant. Neither he nor Carole Hudson lied out of pride or arrogance. Not really.

"It was for love," his heavenly avatar screamed. That was supposed to work, like it did in the movie. He even had the tears, if not the rose petal. His rigged jury remained stony-faced throughout. The section of religious pendants brooked no lies and the members of the perfect parents section just looked smug. The third and last section had confused him initially. They were all military, his father among them. At first he thought they'd be on his side but they were angry and bitter. They were the ones who had been broken and whose damage had been buried with them by families who preferred to remember dead heroes, not living failures.

Finn had bit back an invective in the hospital room. Getting mad at angels probably wasn't the way to go. What was missing was the advocate, the conveniently recently deceased soul who would be better at words, better at expressing how important it was that his mother lived; how very, very important love was. It was beyond Finn Hudson.

Remembering that flight of fancy now, Finn's legs gave way and he sank down against the door jamb. Angels were supposed to be gentle and consoling, not confrontational and scolding. He was aware that he was sobbing. He couldn't stop. One tiny, functioning part of his brain acknowledged it was exhaustion but the rest of him was still lost in that hospital room and the nightmarish heavenly courtroom he imagined as he sat there in despair. An advocate, an angel that was there for him, that's what he'd needed. Where was that angel?

Finn became vaguely aware of something, a warmth that permeated him. He reached for the source, drawing it closer, burying his face in it. It was fragrant and soft and trembling. Had his angel finally come?

"imsosorryimsosorryimsosorryi msosorryimsosor"

It was rhythmic and melodic but the music had no meaning because he couldn't concentrate. Finn knew he should try to claw his way back to reality but reality sucked, heaven sucked, everything sucked except this sudden and urgent need to be filled with something other than the despair that still gripped him. He took breaths as deep as his smothered face would allow and let his palms glide, tracing the form of the ethereal body pressed against his. His hands needed no conscious guidance. The movements were familiar and practiced.

"imsosorryimsosorryimsosorryi msosorryimsosor"

Finn felt feathery kisses on his wet cheeks and fingers kneading the back of his neck and his side. His blood started pumping harder and he could feel sweat beads at his temples. He groaned and pulled his hands up to grip the angel's face, finding the lips that sang words he couldn't understand. He silenced them with his own, the image of heaven fading as he let his body have succour. Lips opened, tongues danced, and Finn Hudson was lost inside a different kind of heaven.

+...+

She was replete and lay on her back, basking. Her bare arm slid over the rough blanket and sleep threatened to overtake her. She pushed up her sunglasses and turned her head to watch as Puck repacked the picnic hamper. The late lunch of cheese straws, coronation chicken with rice and salad, and raspberry mille-feuille had been enjoyed in a verdant park overlooking the ocean. The cries of children playing and surf roaring faded to provide soft background music of what, Quinn supposed, she should call a date.

After Rachel went to Ohio, Quinn abandoned her trip to New York. It wasn't that she didn't want to go alone. It was just that despite her role as Sophie, she still had nothing to show for her move to the west coast. Once _Drumm_ aired, then she could go back and not feel like a failure. Instead, she used her free time to do a little networking with some contacts her agent was developing for her on the back of the good reports coming from the _Drumm_ set. She'd lined up a part in a movie with a good screenplay that would shoot in the summer and secured the promise of a guest starring role on a popular comedy whenever she wanted it by a showrunner who'd not resented her refusal at his invitation to see his classic car collection by moonlight. In the course of meeting and greeting people, she'd attracted a lot of interest from guys and a few gals. She ignored it, as was her habit since she'd left Yale. Other than a few casual hook-ups, Quinn had long ago decided that for her romantic relationships were more trouble than they were worth.

Puck had called her that morning to update her on the news from Lima. He'd dropped the invitation to come out on a picnic casually at the end but Quinn had sensed a bit of tension. It made her think about what they were doing. They'd fallen back into their old relationship – friendly, flirty but not serious – so easily that Quinn hadn't worried about what message she was sending out. What message did she want to send out, anyway? Was she interested in more with Puck? She and Puck may have shared an accidental kid, but they had never really shared anything else – values, ambitions, beliefs; just a love of glee club and the desire to break out of the small town in which they were raised.

In the hours before Puck collected her, Quinn determined that she had to let Puck know that while she loved him as an old friend, she didn't want more than that. It would be impossible. Her career had finally kicked off and she needed to concentrate on it. The business part of her brain told her that being single was useful as she could be seen on a wide variety of arms. Some might call her a slut for it but that didn't matter. She'd be seen, photographed, and, with luck, adored. The human part of her brain admonished her for being so calculating. Quinn's life had been a battle between her hard and soft halves all her life but in this business, she needed the armour plating.

Lying back on the blanket watching him now, she chided herself again. If Puck really was into her, then it would be cruel to just blow him off. Above all else, she valued the friendships that had come from her re-connecting with him and Finn. She'd give anything not to jeopardise them. She had to be gentle but firm, that was it. Puck had closed the hamper and thrown himself back down on the blanket with eyes shut. Now was as good a time as any.

"I've had a letter."

Quinn's mouth was open so Puck's words caught her by surprise. It took her a second to switch her train of thought. "That's very old-fashioned these days. Who from?"

"Beth. She likes writing and she likes writing by hand. Says it's cool or something." Puck was clearly bemused by the notion. "Anyway, she wants to come and visit. She says Shelby has agreed that she can come on her own."

Quinn's thoughts had frozen. Puck had told her on the boat that he was in touch with Shelby and Beth. At the house, he'd even shown Quinn a picture Beth had drawn of her biological parents when she was seven. It had depicted Quinn as a golden-haired angel and Puck as a devil with a pitchfork. They'd laughed about it and declared that whatever Beth's talents were to be, art was probably not one of them. Talking about the daughter they'd created in high school was good. Both were content that she'd been adopted after birth by Shelby. Only once had Quinn brooded, regretting the decision to give her up. When Quinn was a high school senior, she saw Beth for the first time since she was born and Quinn went a little crazy. Maternal feelings sprouted up like weeds from nowhere inside her. She nearly destroyed Shelby's life. It was only understanding that doing that would destroy Beth's life too that Quinn recovered her senses. Since that time, she had avoided contact with the pair. She was invited but concern as to how she would react kept her away.

Puck had opened his eyes and turned his head to gaze at her. "Is that going to be a problem for you?"

"N-no, no. I don't think so." Quinn blinked rapidly to avoid tearing up. She slipped the sunglasses back over her eyes. "I mean, she doesn't have to see me if she doesn't want to."

"And you don't have to see her if you don't want to."

"I-" Quinn started to say. "Right. I don't have to see her. It's probably best I don't."

"Why?"

"Oh, you know. Hormones might send me crazy again. Besides, I'm bound to be a dull after she meets her dad who lives in a big house and works for a movie star."

"That's bullshit and you know it."

Quinn sighed. "I know," she said, "I'm just not sure how I feel about it. Maybe I need some time, that's all. When is she coming? And alone, really, to stay with you and Finn? She's so young. What is Shelby thinking?"

"She was fourteen last month. When I was fourteen, I'd already stolen two cars, tried weed and had Christine Becklem-"

"I don't want to know, thanks. God! Shelby must be out of her mind."

"What do you take me for? Beth will not be doing any of those things ever or until she's thirty-five. You better believe that I take care of her and keep her safe. Shelby knows that. Besides," he added softly, "they've been here before."

Quinn got up on her elbow and stared at him. "You never told me that!"

"I was being considerate, going gradually. I wasn't sure how you'd react." He squinted up at her. "I've been back to see them every year since high school. Oh, and…," he gulped, looking decidedly sheepish, "Beth knows you're around."

Quinn threw herself back down on the blanket. She wasn't sure if she was exasperated or hurt. It was Puck's turn to rise on his elbow.

"Nothing I could do. She's been reading all about _Drumm_ and she's really excited. She kept me on Skype three hours the day after that first gossip piece hit the streets, asking me all about you. Too impatient for writing that day."

"So, you not only see our daughter, you talk to her regularly."

"Once a week, like clockwork. Sometimes more. Usually when her mom's pissed her off."

Quinn had chosen not to have a relationship with her daughter. Why did it feel like betrayal that Puck had made a different decision? It made no sense and Quinn wondered if this was the start of a new phase of lunacy. She needed to get away, to think. She had to work out what she was going to do. For all the degradation she'd suffered through countless failed auditions, nothing was going to be as bad as this one. And if she couldn't face it, what would that do to Beth?

Quinn shot up from the blanket and looked down at Puck. "Can you take me home?"

"You okay?" he asked as he rose more slowly, grabbing hold of the blanket as he did.

"No."

+...+

Her long dark hair spilled over the pillowcase. She stretched languorously and stroked her bare belly. There was something wonderfully decadent about wallowing in afterglow in bed in the afternoon. It had been a very long time since she felt as content as this. She could almost feel herself purring. She giggled softly, confident that the noises from the bathroom would mask her small expression of joy. It wasn't the right time for that, not yet anyway.

Finding the love of her life in high school had made relationships since they'd parted seem colourless. She'd met people; wined and dined them, been wined and dined by them, bedded them, but there was always something missing; the explosion of fireworks on touching, the giddiness of watching simple movements, the bubbling of delight at every uttered word. She'd missed those things and she was, perhaps, on the brink of finding them again. So long as she was careful. That was the key. Her intensity could be scary and scared people often ran. She'd have to play it cool.

She became conscious of a soft but insistent tinkling. She threw back the covers and checked the floor where her clothes were flung across different parts of the room. Where the hell was it? She raced over to the largest bundle and pulled up the long cardigan. Digging into the pocket, she pulled out her phone. She checked the screen. It was an unknown number. Frowning, she answered.

"Santana Lopez and this better be good!"

+...+

The machines had been switched off. Kurt stared at the empty bed for a moment before picking up the empty box from the corner. He approached the bedside table and opened the drawer. There was some Chapstick, a hairbrush, a few of the cards from well-wishers that hadn't fit along the room's available surfaces and various objects from the house that they'd been encouraged to use to try to stimulate his mom's senses in accordance with medical advice. Kurt picked up the bottle of his dad's aftershave and opened it. He took in a deep breath, letting the aroma fill him. His father had stubbornly used the same aftershave for the last thirty years, despite Kurt and his mother's best efforts and, as it would have for her, it gave him immediate essence of Burt. Kurt had never told either of his parents that there was a bottle of Old Spice in his apartment in Paris, just so that Kurt could smell it when he was feeling homesick.

He sighed and put the top back on the bottle, setting it into the box. There were some fabric swabs he'd had sent from a local retailer – quality middling but beggars couldn't be choosers. He ran his finger over the pieces with his lip curled. Honestly, people in Ohio should be up in arms if this was the best fabric they could get. He sighed again and dropped them in the box before pulling them out and throwing them into the waste bin at the side of the bed. They didn't need to be taken home.

Kurt continued packing away stuff from the drawer when he heard a commotion outside. Glancing at his watch, he looked up in surprise as Nurse Radnor opened the door to the room. "You said I'd have more time, Rita," he complained.

"Don't blame me," the nurse said sourly. "Blame your dad. Now back away."

Kurt grabbed the box and set it back down in the corner of the room. He pressed himself against the window as a gurney was rolled into the room, stopping next to the bed. Nurse Radnor and the orderly who'd been pushing it set about moving the occupant to the bed. The orderly exited quickly with the gurney as did Nurse Radnor once satisfied with arrangements. Kurt detached himself from the wall and walked over to the bed.

"So, what's dad been up to now?" he wondered, half out loud.

"He told them that the brain thingy could wait until tomorrow and I'd done enough for my first day awake. I think. I keep drifting in and out."

Kurt smiled and took his mother's hand. "Yeah, you do," he said fondly. "I was going to get rid of all this stuff we weren't going to need anymore before you came back, make room for chocolates and perfume. I guess I took too long talking to Blaine. Sorry."

"No, honey," Carole said sleepily. "It's okay. I don't need anything. Just knowing my boys are here for me."

"Does that include me?" Burt entered the room and grinned.

"Absolutely." Carole opened her other hand and smiled as Burt took it. He settled himself in the chair at her side. "Has Finn gone home to get some sleep? He was so shattered."

Kurt nodded. "Yeah, he went as soon as they wheeled you out for all your tests."

"You two need to go home too. These pain killers are crazy strong and I'm going to be asleep more than I'm awake." She yawned.

"I'm staying but your mom's right, Kurt. Go home, eat, sleep. We can sort stuff out tomorrow."

"And then," Carole said, fighting off sleep, "you need to go home, honey. I mean to Paris, to Blaine, you've got a baby to get ready for, and Finn, Finn needs to go back to LA. You two can't put your lives on hold. Promise me."

Kurt was grateful that Carole lost her battle with Orpheus before he was forced to reply. He was too busy wondering how the hell she knew about the baby.

+...+

Her long dark hair spilled over the pillowcase. She stretched gingerly and stroked the bruised flesh of her bare arm. They had been like things possessed, rough and urgent. She suspected he had as many marks on his body as she did, not least from the floorboards and sharp corners of the walls and doorways in the hall where they'd first had union. She had tried to talk, to apologize for what had happened at the hospital, but once his lips found hers, she'd stopped trying, giving measure for measure for every kiss, every grapple and every lunge. He hardly seemed to recognize her and she didn't care. She wanted this. She had wanted it since she'd first laid eyes on him, even if she hadn't admitted it to herself then. Whatever else there was of them, the sex had always been special.

She'd had to urge him up the stairs and into bed. He had said her name once there with confusion. She kissed it away and they coupled again, this time more slowly but no less urgently. Afterwards, he was spent and falling asleep. She kissed his brow and said again, "I so sorry about your mom."

Eyes closed, he mumbled, "Mom's awake," before succumbing to the exhaustion.

Rachel lay beside him and listened to the soft, regular breathing. She didn't know if she should be celebrating or kicking herself as she thought back over the hour they'd just shared. All that time she thought she'd killed Carole and yet she fucked her son like it was Christmas. What did that say about her? What did it say about him that he didn't mention the fact that Carole had woken up until after? That he didn't even seem to know or care who he was doing? More importantly, would this put a spoke in the wheel of them moving forward or accelerate it?

All she knew for sure she thought as she ran her finger along another rising bruise on her arm was that it was some amazing pity sex. Rachel just wasn't sure which one of them was the more pitiable.

**Drumm: Chapter Twenty-Six **

_"What do you mean, closed?"_

_Alyssa had had a long day and had cursed putting on the high heels of her alter-ego but now that she was here, she didn't like being sent home. _

_"Closed." The goon had limited vocabulary and no inclination to explanation. Elsa looked around. She saw Elsa and gave her a brief nod. Her first thought was maybe that Elsa had run tattletale to Sallis but the fact that she was also surprised at being turned away belied that. Two more girls coming up behind her were told the same thing and Pepper huffed. What a waste of a night._

_Alyssa saw one of the friendlier goons arguing with Trudy. She sauntered over in time to hear Trudy tell the guy to go fuck himself. _

_"Wow, such lady."_

_"Hey, Pepper. Yeah, everybody's kinda upset. They must be doing really good on tips, right?"_

_"Well, you know Joe, it pays the rent. What's going on, anyway?"_

_Joe shook his head. "Dunno. I just got told to make sure no one goes in. And you know how the boss feels about too many questions."_

_Alyssa decided not to waste the entire night. "I know, Joe, but sometimes, if you don't ask, you don't get. Know what I mean?" She adorned her sexiest smile._

_"No," he said, confused._

_"Well, ever since Tony abandoned me, I'm looking for a new beau. Interested?"_

_"Oh, right. Yeah, sure although…"_

_Alyssa knew when to stay quiet and let him fill the space._

_"Tony probably hasn't abandoned you. At least, I don't know so. Boss sent him upstate on a job. He'll be back tomorrow I think."_

_"Well, I don't know that this piece of ass is gonna wait on a guy who doesn't bother to tell her he's gonna be outta town."_

_"Tell you what. Tony's a pal but if he's dropped you, I'll show you a good time. You're one hot chick, Pepper."_

_Alyssa beamed at the goon and nodded. "You better believe it," she said, turning on her heel and strutting away. She made sure to add some wiggle._

+...+

_Elsa couldn't sleep. She pushed back the covers and rose to sit at the side of the bed. It was 4 am. There had been no performance that night. She'd arrived at the club to be sent home again, along with everyone else. She and Alyssa – no, better to keep thinking of her as Pepper – had exchanged glances but nothing more. There was no explanation. The place wasn't being raided or anything, the goons had simply closed it down. There was no sign of Sallis and he hadn't been home in days. Something serious was up and she wanted to know what._

_She'd exhausted her search of the apartment for the means into the safe. Nothing had given her any clue as to its combination. For the first time since she started this, she let doubts crowd her mind. It was stupid to think she could find it and stupid to think that it would matter if she did. Her father was dead. Brian was dead. Their reputations were in the mud along with the business they'd built. Why did she think the truth, even if she could prove it, would change any of that?_

_She sighed. She preferred to put her insomnia down to her concern about her mission because otherwise it would be about something else and there was only one something else it could be. Drumm. Where was he? Was he dead too? Was everyone she'd ever loved-_

_"Whoa! Hold it right there, girl!" she said to herself out loud. "You don't love Drumm."_

_Of course she didn't love the fool. She didn't even know him. She only knew that he had a way of getting under her skin that bothered her and that he was a more than proficient lover. They were two very minor things to know about a man. She had serious doubts about his intellect. Brian had been a PhD and valedictorian; her dad the same. She was used to smart people and smart conversation. What was Drumm? A drummer in a rock and roll band and a part time private dick. Make that full-time dick._

_Elsa sneered at her poor wit. She was so rusty. Still, better to mock herself than to think about the way he made her feel alive for the first time in years or the way she was driving herself crazy at the thought that she might never see him again._

_She rose and donned the sheer robe that matched her negligee. Sallis might not have been home lately but she had been trained to be ready for whenever he might arrive and need attention. The thought of that attention had always been abhorrent but now it was almost unbearable. She'd spent months being his whore and had nothing to show for it. It was time for a new strategy but her head wasn't at all clear. Where was Drumm?_

_Not bothering with the lights, Elsa grabbed a glass from the kitchen cupboard and stood at the sink, letting the water run cold. She filled the glass, turned off the tap and brought the glass to her mouth. She froze. The front door of the apartment opened and she heard voices. It was Sallis and someone else, a voice she didn't recognise. She paused just a little too long to reveal herself._

_"Everything's moved?" That was Sallis._

_"Yeah. We got all the big stuff out tonight. The basement's as bare as a baby's butt. The new site is fully set up. It's really sweet."_

_"I don't care if it's sweet. I care if it does the job and it ain't doing it yet."_

_"There's been some delay on their end but I'm told that's over now."_

_"And you're sure it won't bring the cops down on our heads."_

_"Reminds me of our first place. The cops'll never think of looking there, that's for sure," the stranger's voice said. "Who would?"_

_"The Pink Leopard was supposed to be safe and it's had cops crawling all over it since fucking Montana decided to be a hero." _

_Elsa could hear Sallis moving to the office. If she was found eavesdropping, she wouldn't live to tell the tale so Elsa crept forward to check that the men had disappeared behind the office door. Seeing light from underneath the office door and no other movement, she quickly and silently ran back to the bedroom on bare feet. She was just in time because she heard the office door open again. She put the glass of water on the table by the bed and eased herself between the sheets, barely breathing. The front door of the apartment closed and she held herself still, waiting to see if Sallis had left with his visitor or stayed. Within seconds, she knew it was the latter._

_"Hey, princess." _

_Elsa feigned sleep, letting him poke her a few times._

_"Wilson," she eventually said softly, trying to sound enthusiastic. To her ear, it sounded pathetic. "Where've you been?" She knew as soon as the words were out of her mouth that it was a mistake. Sallis grabbed the arm that was stretched out for his neck. He twisted._

_"Princess, you don't ask about my business."_

_"Sorry, baby. I've just missed you so much. You've been gone so long."_

_Sallis lowered himself on top of her and Elsa ran to that place in her head where she escaped reality, leaving just enough consciousness to respond at the right moments. In the private place in her mind, one question kept coming to the surface. _

_Where is Drumm?_

+...+

_Drumm was staring at stars. They were dancing. There was an occasional comet too and once he would have sworn there was a UFO, something out of _Close Encounters_. Over it all, there was loud, rocking music with a beat that he couldn't resist. His arms found life and were extended above him, playing invisible drums. The concert in the sky kept him from bothering about the protruding jagged edges that lacerated his back and legs or the cold damp that was seeping into him. _

_The music finally stopped and the stars started to be chased away by dawn. Drumm smiled and considered sleep. There was something wrong about sleeping here. He could sense it but he couldn't work it out. Maybe if he slept first. Maybe he could sleep if the odour that was clogging his senses was sweeter. He tried to remember if it was always like this when he crashed down. He didn't remember it being so putrid._

_He'd never had a bad experience with heroin, other than wasting his life on it. It was one of the things that had made it tough to kick. He'd get high, feel fine and wake up gently with an urge to do it all again. He kinda missed that urge._

_He missed the urge. Fucking hallelujah! He had no urge, not yet anyway, to return to the high, not least because he sure as hell couldn't recall feeling good lately. Confused as fuck, used, thrown away, yeah. Good, no._

_A face flashed before his eyes; a beautiful face with long, dark hair and eyes that sparkled with lust and secrets. That was maybe a "good." The mouth moved. He strained to hear._

_"Get up!" _

_Hands fumbling at his pockets and at his feet were enough to bring him back to the physical world. The face changed. The long, dark hair gave way to stringy, greasy grey locks. Cold, dead eyes and a stubbly chin replaced the angel's features. Drumm kicked out savagely._

_"Oofff."_

_He'd landed a foot in an eye and a fist in a groin. The two bums, startled by the dead man's sudden animation, scrambled up and started to kick. Drumm tucked his head into his chest and clutched his sides to protect his ribs, unable to rise. He needed a minute and they weren't giving it to him._

_"Hey!"_

_Drumm heard the voice and then the scampering of feet on gravel as the two men ran off._

_"You okay?"_

_"Give me a minute."_

_Drumm rolled onto his side and took some deep breaths, trying to get his bearings. Now he felt the effects of a night on a cold, hard ground. As muscles across his back rippled, tiny pinpricks of pain flowed with them. Coughing, Drumm rolled over, landing on hands and knees. He stayed there for a bit, deciding to work on clearing his head._

_What he remembered was a blur. He saw Sophie. He remembered Sophie's kiss and that it was vile. Vile? That was a weird word to use. Drumm shook his head and thought back to before the mist. He saw Elsa, her butt squirming on Sallis' lap. More vile. _

_"Arrrggghhh."_

_Drumm's cry of frustration was followed by screams and the frantic flapping of wings. Drumm looked up and saw seagulls taking wing. Looking around, he realised where he was; city garbage dump. It was going to be a long walk saw the man whose arrival scared off his attackers. Another bum but this one didn't look like he wanted to eat him, so that was something. Struggling, tipping over and having to start again twice, Drumm finally got to his feet with the help of the man. _

_"Easy buddy. Rough night, huh?"_

_"I guess so," Drumm said, leaning on the man for support. Drumm narrowed his eyes and tried to assess the stranger. He was nearly as tall as Drumm and was less shabby than the two who had used him as a soccer ball. Against the aroma from the dump, the man's salty odour of perspiration was almost pleasant. The guy hadn't been on the streets long. "Uh, thanks." The man nodded and stepped away. Drumm took a step forward and wobbled. The man held him steady again._

_"I think you'd better sit down again, bud."_

_"No, I have to be somewhere. Listen, would you help me? There's a hundred bucks in it for you if you can get me back to my office in one piece."_

_The man looked sceptical at Drumm's ability to make good on the offer but shrugged. "Sure. I got nowhere to be."_

_"Thanks. I'm Drumm." Drumm held out his hand. After a moment's hesitation, the man took it._

_"Steve."_

_With Drumm's arm over his shoulder and Steve's around his back, the two started picking their way through the mounds of putrefying rubbish. Drumm stumbled a few times, on one occasion landing face first in a used diaper. Steve pulled him up and found some scrap paper to wipe away the worst of it. The best thing Drumm thought, as they left the dump and got to the streets, was that nobody would come anywhere near them until they got back to Drummond Investigations. He didn't need any additional aggravation._

_Drumm let Steve guide him as they walked in silence, devoting himself to remembering. With time, the memories came flooding back, clear and sharp. Sophie. The bed. The drugs. The company, the fucking company that she screwed him over for. Oh yeah, he remembered Sophie now. He'd have to thank her for leaving him in a place where the cops wouldn't pull him off the street, after he brought her down._

_He was definitely going to bring the bitch down. _

* * *

**To those taking the time to review, thank you****.**


	28. The Day the World Turned Day-Glo

**The **_**Glee**_** characters belong to **_**Glee**_**, the rest of the characters belong to me. This story is improved no end by wood-u-like-2-no's contribution as beta and soundboard. Guys, sorry that I'm taking so long between chapters since I returned to it. I'm having to reread the whole thing each time I start. And then I start to rethink and then I get waylaid by stuff they've done in S4 which I shouldn't because this is written as at the end of S3… Anyway, sorry. I'll try to do better. I can however guarantee that I will finish it. Twelve more chapters to go.  
**

**Conceit: Chapter titles are song titles. Time for a bit of punk from X-Ray Spex, 1978**

**+...+**

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Day the World Turned Day-Glo**

Kurt let himself into the house quietly. Finn was bound to be asleep and he didn't want to wake him. He paused in the hall, all energy draining from him as he tried to let go of the pent-up anxiety and drop the mask of quiet fortitude. He didn't need to be strong anymore. His mom's recovery would be long and hard but at least it had finally started.

Kurt blinked hard to clear his eyes of the tears that prickled his eyes. He walked forward into the kitchen. Rachel had obviously stayed as it was clean and spotless and not how they left it. Carole's sister Theresa wasn't due until tomorrow so it could only have been her. Finn, even if he hadn't been dead on his feet, could never have made it so pristine.

There was no point going to bed. He wasn't tired and he still felt miserable without knowing why. After grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, he wandered aimlessly into the living room, falling down onto the couch. He checked the time on his cell; midnight in Paris. The concert should be over. The call was picked up within two rings. "Hey, hon. How'd the concert go?"

"It was fabulous, Kurt. I wish you could have been here. Still, not as fabulous as knowing that Carole's going to be okay."

"Okay is relative," Kurt said slowly, finding it hard to ditch the despondency of the last few days, "but, yeah. She's awake and the doctors are saying that subject to what the brain scan turns up, they see no reason for her not to make a full recovery."

"Love, you sound really down. You were over the moon earlier. What's wrong?"

Kurt sighed. "I don't know. Maybe it's just that it's all catching up with me or maybe it's because I can't throw myself into work. It's probably because I'm not with you."

"I'll get a flight back first thing in the morning."

"No, no, don't do that, Blaine. Mom's already pushing Finn and me to get the hell out of Lima. She'll get mad if you turn up again."

"We don't have to tell her I was there, you know," his husband replied softly.

Kurt burst out laughing and couldn't stop. Release had finally come and tears trailed down his cheeks.

"Kurt! Kurt! What's going on? Kurt?"

"Sorry," Kurt gasped out. "Sorry, I just… Ah, thank you. I needed that." He finally regained control of himself.

"Well," Blaine said, a little indignant, "I'm not sure what I said was so funny."

"Hon, it wasn't and stop being sensitive! It's just that I don't think we'd get away with that."

"Burt and Finn wouldn't give us away, would they?"

"No, they probably wouldn't. It's not that. Mom knows about our adoption plans. She heard us when she was in the coma. From what I can tell, she seems to have heard a lot."

Kurt heard a gasp behind him and nearly dropped the phone in fright. Rachel was standing at the door of the living room and her eyes were as wide as twin moons. Kurt returned his attention to the phone on which Blaine was expressing his surprise.

"Honey, I have to go. Rachel's here and it looks like she's about to keel over. I'm guessing I'm not the only one who shared secrets with Mom. Love you."

+...+

"You've had sex!" The tone was accusatory.

"I have no idea how you know that but so what? I'm an adult, I'm single and I'm horny. What's the big deal?"

"Oh, it's not I suppose, but you have a disgusting glow about you and I'm just not in the mood for it."

"What's going on?" A hand reached out across the space dividing them.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe I just need another drink."

Santana gestured sharply for the waiter. She ordered a glass of wine for herself and another for Quinn. On getting the call from the borrowed cell in the wine bar, she'd abandoned her lover – Santana couldn't prevent the small, satisfied smirk that crossed her face at the descriptor – to rescue her friend and while she didn't regret it, she couldn't help wishing she was still in that warm bed and hot embrace.

The wine arrived and Santana sipped hers as Quinn took a mighty gulp. Santana bit her lip. She had to fight her impatience of getting to the core of Quinn's meltdown. The last time she'd seen Quinn this agitated had been in high school. Finally, after Quinn finished her wine but remained silent and glowering, Santana couldn't stop herself. "Quinn, if it's a choice between stroking a perfect breast and watching you turn into an alcoholic, I just wanna say-"

"It's Beth. She wants to meet me."

"Ah." Santana understood immediately. "So Puck told you."

"You knew? And you didn't think to tell me? What kind of friend are you? What kind of friend are any of you?"

Santana wasn't one to allow pity parties. "The kind who hasn't reminded you that you more or less dropped me after high school and only ever called when you wanted something until you got the part in _Drumm_."

Quinn flushed. She opened her mouth to bite back but closed it quickly and instead, dissolved into tears. Santana, surprised by the rare display of strong emotion, rose from the stool opposite Quinn and settled on the one next to her, putting her arm around the sobbing woman. She let Quinn cry, glaring at any of the staff or patrons who dared to stare. Once the sobbing had subsided, Santana called the anxious waiter over again, paid the bill and led Quinn outside and to her car. Inside, Santana waited, her patience restored.

"I'm sorry," Quinn finally said. "You didn't deserve that. I just- I just don't know what to do and it's making me crazy. Again. Man, I need a cigarette."

"You don't smoke and your hair's still blonde, not pink. You're not crazy." Santana sighed. Her sympathy metre was small and it was exhausted. "It's been what? Fifteen years? You need to deal with it or get over it. And guess what? It's not all about you. She's a good kid, Quinn, and nobody's hidden you from her. It's hardly surprising that she wants to meet you."

If Quinn was expecting something more empathetic, she didn't show it. She responded with resignation. "So you've met her too?"

"Yeah, at Finn's when she and Shelby were there. A couple of times actually. She's a brat sometimes but she's okay for a blonde. She thinks you're perfect by the way. I do try to disabuse her but you know kids; they think they know better." Quinn didn't react and Santana continued, a little more kindly. "You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself. You did the best thing for that kid when she was born. It's time to accept it. Believe it."

"I know. I know you're right. When I don't think about her, I'm fine, but as soon as I do, I get these feelings…"

"That's called love and it's natural. New to you, I know."

"That's a horrible thing to say!"

"Oh, come on. When did you ever love anybody, heart and soul, more interested in them than in yourself? Finn was always your ticket to prom queen, Puck was a one-night stand, Sam was the new quarterback and your chance at Finn 2.0 and Joe was, I don't know what Joe was except in need of a steam clean and a haircut. Since then, who's there been?"

"Why do I feel like a pot in the presence of a kettle?"

"That's why I know. Before Brittany, I was the same. And at least I had the excuse of confused sexuality." Santana shrugged. "Actually though, after Brittany I was pretty much the same too. I didn't realise how much I missed being head over heels."

Quinn raised an eyebrow. Santana laughed.

"Oh, don't worry. I'm not at the gooey, disgusting Finchel stage. I'd be barfing if I was. God, do you remember how sickening those two used to be?" Santana shivered. "And it's happening all over again, isn't it?"

Quinn gave out a small smile.

"Yuck. Well, at least they're not teens. They won't feel the need to paw each other in public." Santana paused and looked over at Quinn. "Do you think you did the right thing giving up Beth for adoption, yes or no?"

"Yes."

"So what exactly are you afraid of?"

Quinn thought long and hard before she responded. Santana smirked when she did.

"Disappointing her."

+...+

"I didn't know you were still here."

"Carole heard?"

Kurt rose and went to Rachel, putting his arm around her. He led her back to the couch. "I wondered if you'd been chatty with her too. You or Finn, actually but I didn't ask. Look, I don't know what she remembers. I just know she remembered that Blaine and I are going to adopt. That could be all."

Rachel nodded her head slowly, hoping it was true. She really didn't want Carole to hate her.

"What are you doing here, anyway? Where were you? I didn't see you when I came in."

Rachel blushed. "I, uh, I was upstairs, with Finn. Then I heard somebody downstairs so I came down." Kurt was staring at her with a raised brow. "He came home," she continued hurriedly, "and we, you know, we sort of-"

"Oh, my God. Here we go again. Your timing sucks, you know."

Rachel felt herself get defensive to hear the doubts she had already had reflected back at her. "It wasn't planned, you know. I wasn't waiting to jump him or anything like that. But he was crying and I couldn't stand it. I don't even think he knew it was me at first."

"So," he said, smirking, "you took advantage of my brother."

"No!" She nearly shouted it but as she did, she felt a sting. Is that what she'd done? He was at as low an ebb as he could be and any thoughts of simply providing comfort disappeared as soon as he kissed her. She should have stayed sane. Rachel felt a tear escape. "No," she said again, more softly, "at least, that's not what I meant to do," pressing herself into Kurt. He drew her closer as they got lost in their respective thoughts.

+...+

Finn had woken with the sound of Kurt's laugh but hadn't opened his eyes. He felt the presence next to him rise from the bed. She was real, not an angel or demon he'd created in his head. Rachel.

Then she was gone and he opened his eyes, memory flooding him. There was some point when he was thrusting into the body beneath him that he realized he was neither dreaming nor hallucinating. He didn't stop. He couldn't stop. He didn't want to stop. Instead, he'd squeezed harder and hammered faster, harder and faster until everything exploded and he let sleep take him.

It wasn't enough sleep. His head was pounding, like a really bad hangover. He dragged his body up, pausing at the edge of the bed, giving his head a chance to catch up, to stop throbbing. He caught sight of scratches on his arm. They were long and red. As he stretched without rising, he could feel tiny stings on his back. She had marked him. That was funny. She was so small, so fragile, and he was so big and clumsy, it should have been the other way around. In their past, he'd occasionally get carried away, leaving her with a bruise. He'd be mortified and try and kiss it away as she laughed at him. But from what he was remembering, whatever happened between them this time was nothing like then. Then, it hadn't been about hurting each other. Now? They seemed to be able to do it without thought. A new image appeared in his mind, one of silky flesh being squeezed hard between rough fingers. Where was she? He needed to see her, to make sure she was okay.

He heard her call out. His head stubbornly refused to stop throbbing so he gritted his teeth and ignored it, despite the nausea that hit him as he quickly stood. Sleep deprivation and alcohol were the only two things that gave him headaches. This one was a doozey.

Finn donned his boxers and made his way to the top of the stairs. He couldn't hear anything. Maybe she'd gone, as disgusted by the animal he'd become as he was and maybe it was for the best. A mantra had wormed its way into his head, sounding out between each throb: you hurt each other, you hurt each other, you hurt each other, run. Making his way down to the bottom he turned and looked into the living room. It was twilight now and a lamp was burning. Kurt and Rachel were just sitting there silently. They hadn't heard him. Rachel's head was leaning on his brother's chest. Finn could see tears drying on her cheeks. Kurt's hand on Rachel's arm had caught the sleeve, causing the fabric to ruche up slightly. Finn's eyes followed it down to the exposed skin. It was red and angry, branded by a brutal hand. His hand. Finn gasped.

"Hey, big brother! When did you come down?"

Heads were turned towards him now but Finn couldn't see anything but the marks on Rachel's skin. The pain in his head pulsed but was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. He had hurt her and that was always going to be their problem. They couldn't help but hurt each other. You hurt each other, you hurt each other, you hurt each other, run.

"Finn, you need to go back to bed. You've only slept a couple of hours." Rachel had jumped up and was coming towards him. He backed away. She stopped, stunned. "Finn?"

"I want you to go, Rachel, back to LA" he said, forcing his voice to come out strong and sure.

"What?" Rachel flinched like she'd been hit by a bullet and it came out like a whimper. Finn hated himself but he steeled himself nonetheless. Cruel to be kind, right?

Kurt had stood and was watching both with concerned eyes. "Finn…"

Finn recognised his brother's WTF face but he couldn't afford to deal with it now. "Stay out of this, Kurt. Rachel, this was a mistake. A big one. I'm sorry, but I really need you away from me."

He could see her drawing breath, getting ready to fight back. He knew how hard she held onto things, that he'd never convince her that they were bad for each other, and that she'd just laugh his fears away. If he wasn't firm, he'd let her. It would be so much easier if his head wasn't pounding. He braced himself.

"No. I'm not going anywhere until we talk properly. Finn, what happened, it was always going to happen. You want me as much as I want you. You've just proved it."

That was true, he acknowledged within but telling her that would be fatal. She'd dismiss the bruises and really, it wasn't about the bruises. It was about the way he lost control when he was with her. She couldn't see how dangerous he was for her, they were for each other. He had to do his best to keep her safe and to keep his own peace of mind. He needed something that would shut her down, something that would be unforgivable. It had to be the worst thing he could say to her. So he found it and he pulled down from deep every ounce of his training to make her believe he meant it.

"I don't want you, Rachel. I haven't wanted you since the day I learned you flushed our child down the toilet. Go."

**Drumm: Chapter Twenty-Eight **

_"You have got to be kidding me!"_

_"Shut your mouth, Mitch. I don't want to see your tonsils. It's true; Liz just called. They got prints when they were at the Pink Leopard. She thought we'd want to know."_

_"If that don't beat all." _

_"If what don't beat all? The cops found Drumm?" Alyssa marched in, pulling a couple of snotty-nosed kids behind her. Sid watched her sourly as she settled them into a couple of chairs in the corner with some crayons and colouring books. Alyssa glanced up at him. "What? You never said we had to stop. Their mom's getting her benefits sorted out. It'll only be a few minutes."_

_"Yeah, I've heard that before," Sid said. He was as much a founder of the battered women underground railway as she was but he was less tolerant of the ones who expected them to be babysitters. Now he was running the place, he'd also come to appreciate Theo's reluctance at getting the agency involved. Just after Drumm disappeared, they'd had one angry husband track his wife down this far and it hadn't been pretty getting rid of him. _

_Alyssa returned to her desk. "Anyway, what's got you all excited, Mitch?"_

_"Sid found out who Elsa Cannotti is."_

_Alyssa raised her brows. _

_"Correction," Sid said sharply, "__**Elizabeth**__ found out who Elsa Cannotti is. Accuracy's important in this game, bozo head."_

_"Oh, God, Sid. You're starting to sound just like Bulldog." Mitch complained._

_"Hey! Will you two stop bickering and just tell me?"_

_Sid glanced at the children. They were taking no interest. Still, he wasn't comfortable talking in front of them. "Come into the office." He turned and shuffled to the back office._

_Alyssa rolled her eyes and turned to Mitch. "No candy!" Mitch had a sweet tooth and always had something in his drawers. He frequently gave it to the kids who came in. She didn't need to be dealing with sugar rushes. Mitch avoided her eye and went back to the splicing machine on his desk. Alyssa sighed, took a last look at the children and headed to Theo's office where Sid was waiting. Before she got to there, she heard the door of the agency open. Great, Mom was here._

_It wasn't Mom, hers or anyone else's. It was Drumm, tattered and torn, arm in arm with a man who looked like he hadn't showered in forever. _

+...+

_"We've got more on the victim."_

_Elizabeth Mortimer was running the briefing. It was a waste of time. Thurlow was cleaning his nails, giving as much interest to the investigation into Montana's death as she would have shown in his grooming routine. Her partner and the one uniform still assigned to her were more alert._

_"Jason Montana, 44, formerly of New Haven, Connecticut. Graduated with honours at MIT in chemistry. Went to work for Markhams in-_

_"Markhams? Is that the place the feds shut down?"_

_So Thurlow was a little interested after all. Elizabeth nodded and carried on. "Started in Markhams in 1960. When the company assets were seized five years ago, he moved around taking jobs with different companies until his last which was Cantor Corp. He left there about three months ago, supposedly under a cloud and in possession of company research. We don't know what he was doing since and there's no sign of the research. Bank account… very healthy; over four hundred grand. Willis, come up with anything suspicious on the accounts yet?"_

_The uniformed officer shook his head. "It all looks legit based on tax records and the salaries earned over the years, plus a couple of patents he has from his days at Markhams. He lived pretty frugally and didn't spend on anything conspicuous."_

_"That just means you have yet to find his vice," Thurlow said dryly. _

_"Maybe," Elizabeth said, "but nothing about this guy rings dirty except that he was a chemist and he was at the Pink Leopard, home of Wilson Sallis. The drug squad has been trying to finger Sallis for years; mighty big coincidence to have an out-of-work chemist and a drug dealer in the same place. Here's another coincidence. Tommy Drummond went missing three days ago. A missing person's report was raised last night. "_

_"Drug dealer and drug addict? That is not a coincidence. That is everyday life. Tommy has reverted to type and is probably high in some alley right now." Thurlow threw the nail file on the table. "There is no connection, Mortimer. Do not waste your time."_

_"How's this for a connection, sir. Last person to see Drumm was Sophie Cantor, now chairman and CEO of Cantor Corp. Theo Drummond was last seen at the Pink Leopard before he was murdered. They're playing hard on the details at Drummonds but I know this much; Theo was doing a job for Miss Cantor, looking for Jason Montana when Theo died. Those are connections up the gazoo."_

_Thurlow narrowed his eyes as he stared at his subordinate. "All circumstantial..."_

_Yeah, Elizabeth thought to herself, like most fucking cases. Why was Thurlow being such a hard ass?_

_"…and the case on Theo Drummond is over. There is no evidence and the budget does not stretch to you going on a guilt trip over your old partner. Stick to Montana."_

_"With respect, sir," Elizabeth said shortly and with none, "Drumm carried the job on and followed Montana to the Pink Leopard the day Montana died. Drumm also allegedly witnessed something that could have been a body put into the trunk of a car outside the Pink Leopard that matches the description of the car that dumped Montana's corpse. He is the more reliable of the only two witnesses we have tying Sallis to this murder. And now he's gone and we're to ignore that? Are those your orders?"_

_Elizabeth wasn't sure but she thought she detected a moment's discomfort in the perfect captain. It passed._

_"Tommy Drummond is hardly reliable, is he Detective? However, he may be relevant as a witness, I agree. Maybe more." Elizabeth swore she could see the wheels turning in the man's head. "All right, you have persuaded me, Detective. I will transfer the missing person's investigation to you. When you find Drumm, bring him in. I want to talk to him myself."_

_Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at this but before she could respond, there was a knock on the door._

_"Enter."_

_A uniformed officer stuck his head through the door. "Sorry, Captain but Liz? You wanted anything that came in on Tommy Drummond?"_

_"Yeah, Billy, what you got?" Elizabeth asked, rising from her chair._

_"Front desk just got a call. The guys who reported him missing? They found him."_

_Elizabeth cursed to herself. She'd have preferred to have this information before it got to Thurlow. She turned slowly to face her boss._

_"Go get him, Detective."_

+...+

_Behind their initial terror, the kids were fascinated by Steve and Drumm. They'd screamed when the two appeared at the opening into the office and as soon as Alyssa appeared behind the intruders, they'd run to her and tried to hide behind her lean, strong legs. Drumm didn't think they looked that bad or that either man warranted being deemed monsters by innocents. He tried to smile at them but that only served to make them yelp and glue their heads to Alyssa's backside. He shrugged. He was too tired and too angry to worry about a couple of nameless brats. He watched with little interest as Steve began to ease their fears, first by pulling a penny from the little girl's ear and then by blowing up his cheeks which set the boy to laughter._

_Steve had deposited Drumm on one of the office chairs and he had sunk into it gratefully. However quickly he was recovering from his induced coma, his contaminated blood stream and his enforced incarceration, he expended most of what energy he had on the long walk back to the office. He looked up at the others. Sid, Mitch and Alyssa were pretty much ignoring Steve and the kids, instead staring at Drumm as if he were an exhibit at a freak show. Drumm almost laughed out loud. Oh yeah, he was the major attraction, all right._

_Sid broke the silence. "What the fuck have you done?"_

_What have __**I**__ done? Drumm shook his head as the laughter inside was instantly quenched and replaced by an urge to sob. These were his friends and they wanted to know what __**he'd**__ done. So much for his fucking chances with anybody who didn't like him._

_"Can I get a glass of water?" was all that he could choke out._

_Mitch nodded and disappeared into the tiny toilet that doubled as their kitchen, returning with a glass that Drumm didn't inspect too closely for fear of gagging. Drumm drank the water in a single motion, forcing him to fight to get his breath back with another deep gulp as he lowered the glass._

_"I've done nothing," Drumm said, his voice still croaking. "This was done to me by that fucking bitch, Sophie Cantor."_

_"What are you talking about, kid? You look like you've flying for three days."_

_Of course that's what he looked like, Drumm thought angrily. It is exactly what he was supposed to look like. He cursed Sophie again and began to tell his story._

+...+

_Sallis was snoring. Elsa slipped out of the bed as soundlessly as she could. In the bathroom, she checked for new bruises. There was nothing that wouldn't fade or couldn't be easily hidden before the evening performance. She dressed quickly and quietly. Sallis hadn't set the alarm and it looked like his recent absences were finally over. Great._

_Exiting into the main area of the apartment, Elsa went to check the kitchen to make sure she'd left no tell-tale signs of her eavesdropping now she had light. It was clean and tidy, just like it should be and she breathed a sigh of relief. In the living room, she cast a glance at the study door. Unusually, it was open. She felt her heart lurch. It couldn't be that easy, could it?_

_Elsa returned to the bedroom door. The snores were still strong and steady. It was worth the risk. Tiptoeing back to the study, she entered and looked around. Of course, it's not that easy. The safe was closed and, as a quick try elicited, locked. Damn. A quick scan of the desk offered nothing new except a slip of paper bearing an address and a copy of the previous day's newspaper. Elsa looked at the address carefully. Warehouse district. Thinking back over what she'd heard the night before, Elsa committed the address to memory and replaced it on the desk, exactly as she'd found it. The banging at the front door forced her to hastily replace the piece of paper and scoot out of the study._

+...+

_"Drumm, I need you to come downtown. Thurlow wants to talk to you himself."_

_Elizabeth had come alone to Drummond Investigations, sending her partner off to check Theo's apartment in case Drumm was there instead. She'd arrived as Drumm was getting to the guts of his account to the others and, after a brief pause where she could see him calculating how open he could be with her in the room, she was satisfied that he chose to trust her with all of it. It was an unbelievable story but Elizabeth Mortimer had known Drumm a long time and she'd known him when he was a liar. The Drumm in front of her wasn't that Drumm. Besides, she'd formed her own opinions on the slippery Sophie Cantor._

_"He can't go down there, now, Liz," Sid said. "Not in this state. Lisa's court case is next week and we know it was Thurlow who leaked the report to her of that drug dealer. He can't afford any more evidence turning up for Lisa."_

_"I've got no choice, Sid. He's a material witness in a homicide. Possibly a suspect-"_

_"That's bullshit!" Drumm managed to stand to shout but he was wobbling and had to take support from the back of the chair. Elizabeth did not doubt that Thurlow would draw the most negative inferences possible. She shook her head._

_"I know but I've got orders. If I don't bring you in, Thurlow will have his excuse to bust me down to beat cop and-"_

_"And you always follow your orders, right?" Drumm was being snide, playing on her guilt over Theo. She felt anger well up._

_"No! And you of all people know that."_

_Drumm had the grace to redden. Since the death of his brother, she and Drumm were the only ones who knew that Elizabeth had been with Theo the night Drumm had been caught at the convenience store. She could have, should have turned them both in and didn't in return for which Theo told the investigating officers that she had gone to get them coffee and knew nothing about it. Elizabeth softened her glare at him. "I'd give you time to recover, Drumm, if it was up to me but Thurlow will just come down here himself and drag you in if I don't."_

_"He doesn't have to go, Liz, not unless you're arresting him." Alyssa was cool._

_"You don't want to make me arrest him, guys."_

_"You've got nothing, Liz," Sid said dryly._

_"You think I can't come up with something, old man," she responded, her hackles rising. She didn't need this._

_Drumm had dropped back into the chair, pale and shaking._

_"May I make a suggestion?"_

_Elizabeth, along with everyone else, had ignored the shabby man in the corner with the two children, merely noting his presence and observing Sid pull some notes out of his wallet to hand to him once Drumm finished his tale. Examining him more closely now, she noticed that although he was certainly shabby and probably on the streets, the quality of his trousers, coat and shoes was high. This guy had fallen a long way down._

_"Drumm obviously needs medical attention. Your captain wouldn't expect you to pull him out of a hospital, would he?"_

_"I can't go to hospital, Steve, I told you. That would put all this on record and Lisa-"_

_"I didn't say anything about going to hospital for that. I saw you assaulted by a couple of men this morning after which I found you unable to stand by yourself. Seems a good enough reason to me for emergency treatment." Steve shrugged. "There's a clinic on Twelfth that serves the homeless community. They'll check you out, give you pain medication that will explain any side effects and their records are always, uh, brief."_

_"Who is this guy?" Elizabeth pointed at the stranger, throwing her question out into the room. The others were all staring at him too._

_"My knight in shining fucking armour, that's who," Drumm said, grinning. "Sounds like a plan. What do you say, Detective?" He stopped smiling and dropped his voice. "Please, Liz. I don't want to lose the agency if I can help it. For Theo."_

_Elizabeth shook her head as she thought fast. "Okay, this is what we'll do. I'll take you to the clinic, you get your treatment and then I take you to the station. Letter of the law, you're co-operating, nobody can complain. I'm not so sure this little scheme is going to work to stop Thurlow screwing you," she said, casting another look at the docile stranger, "but it's worth a try. Best I can do."_

_"Good enough," Sid said finally, staring hard at Drumm. "Get a blood test while you're there. There may have to come a time when you have to prove your story. It could come in useful."_

_"Isn't that a bit risky, Sid?" Mitch asked. "If what Sophie Cantor said was true, it could be used against him too."_

_"If this clinic is what our friend says it is, there's no reason for anybody to find out about it. We can worry about the money later."_

_"Come on, Drumm," Elizabeth said. "Can you walk?"_

_Steve stepped forward to help Drumm up. "I'll come with you. I know the people at the clinic and I can make a statement at the station about the assault. That should help."_

_Drumm smiled again and stared at his new friend. "Will you marry me?"_

_"You're not my type, big guy. Lead the way, Detective."_

_"Jesus, between your knight and that rouge agent of yours, this has been a day of surprises," Elizabeth muttered._

_"Wait, what rogue agent?"_

_Elizabeth looked at Sid. "Didn't you tell them?"_

_Sid shook his head. He glanced at Steve and then nodded. Elizabeth turned to Drumm._

_"Elsa Cannotti. That's not her real name. She's a Danielle Markham and until four years ago when she disappeared off the radar, she was with the FBI. They're still looking for her." _

_"She's what?" Drumm was bug-eyed._

_"Yep, playing her own game. Trouble is, now the FBI knows where she is, I'm thinking that if they're not careful, they'll blow whatever set up she's got going down there." Elizabeth shrugged. "But it's not my problem."_

_Drumm was less relaxed. "Wait, wait! We need to warn her!" He shook off the bum handler and took a step towards Sid. _

_"I'll take care of it, kid. Go with them now. Quickly before Thurlow gets impatient."_

_On cue, the outside door opened and Elizabeth braced herself for having to change plans abruptly again. She'd help Drumm if she could but she wasn't going to lose her career over it. She turned, preparing to face her boss. It wasn't Thurlow. It was worse._

_Lisa. _

* * *

**To those taking the time to review, thank you****. I can tell you, there's been a lot of discussion about the last two paragraphs of the Finn/Rachel story, that's for sure.**


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